


Monsters Among Us

by DanzinoraSwitch



Category: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Suspense, Unreliable Narrator, more characters will be added, mostly Raph and Don centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 54,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26310940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanzinoraSwitch/pseuds/DanzinoraSwitch
Summary: He made a vow long ago to protect humanity. And he would keep that vow, or his name wasn't John Bishop.Rise'verse. Set after Repairin' the Baron. While April struggles with her parents coming home, the boys have no idea who they're up against, least of all Donnie.
Comments: 191
Kudos: 257





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Bishop and other familiar names are based off of their 2003 iterations. I have not seen any episodes of 2012 to speak to anything beyond the barest physical descriptions. Enjoy.

Two men stood on a street corner in a torrential downpour. To a bystander, it appeared as though they were waiting for the light to change to cross the street. A trained eye, however, knew to back away as soon as it saw them. Those men were timing something correctly, and it was the sort of thing witnesses shouldn’t stick around for. The light did change, and the men did not move.

One was absolutely huge. Tall, broad-shouldered, hulking, but not unfit, he towered high over his companion’s head. He wore an all black outfit reminiscent of a uniform, with pants that didn’t restrict movement and a sleeveless armored vest. Light brown hair was pulled back in a long ponytail tightly behind him and his eyes flicked around constantly, keeping a watch out for anything and everything. A lightning flash illuminated him a little more clearly, revealing a long scar across his face and a brown scarf around his neck. He looked intimidating to both citizens and practiced agents.

The shorter man carried an umbrella. He only appeared short next to the behemoth beside him; in many ways he was deceptively average for a white American man. His jet black hair was cut cleanly, his black suit featured a coat that went all the way down to his ankles, and a pair of tinted glasses sat on his nose. A regular person would assume him a regular businessman. To that trained eye, however, he was clearly the one of the two in charge. Back straight, eyes focused forward and half-hidden by those lenses, he carried the air of confidence one obtained from having information that an opponent did not. The only flaw in his composure was that he was subtly resting his weight on his left leg.

Thunder rumbled overhead as the two men finally moved in on their target: a store across the street by the name of _Clem’s Candy_. A bell tinkled as they entered the sweet shop. Behind the counter, Clem looked up at them, quickly stowing away a chocolate bar he had been chewing on. He hastily brushed the crumbs off his shirt and straightened his cap and glasses. “Well, how may I help you gentlemen?”

“We will be helping ourselves, _Clem_ ,” the man in the suit said, shaking out and closing his umbrella. He strode up to the counter with the barest of limps, using the umbrella loosely as a cane. It did not deter from his imposing stance. “The merchandise you have here is now the property of the BAI.”

Clem frowned and twirled his mustache. “Can’t say I’ve heard of you guys.”

“The Bureau of Anomalistic Investigations.”

“Oh,” the store owner replied, pretending now to have heard of them. His eyes suddenly widened. “Oh, _that_ merchandise.”

“Indeed,” the man replied. He pushed his tinted glasses further up his nose.

Clem smirked. “Well, you’re gonna have to say the _password_ , then.” He started giggling, but stopped when the man suddenly grabbed the bill of his cap.

“ _Wink._ ”

The man pulled the hat off his head and suddenly Clem was no longer a bespectacled, middle-aged candy clerk, but a bespectacled, middle-aged purple goat. He scrambled back from the counter as his true form was revealed, eyes flicking between the man who took his cloaking device and the scarred man by the door who was now cracking his knuckles.

“L-look,” he held up his hands. “If the police sent you, I can pay the fine, but if Big Ma-”

“I am not with the police, Clem.” The man set down the cap and roved his eyes over the counter. “In fact, I am not with any of your _kind_.”

The goat-man gulped. “Then, then who are you?”

“I am the man the government relies upon for certain… _projects_.” He raised his hand and pressed the object he had been looking for: a service bell.

Instantly the candy shop shelves were overlaid by panels containing less tooth-rotting joy. Clem yelped as the displays behind him were replaced with more mystical and dangerous objects.

“The kinds of projects they’d rather have dealt with _outside_ of the public eye.”

Clem frantically looked around, but the big man was blocking the outside door and the talking man had moved in front of - _dang it_ \- the secret passage to the Hidden City. Briefly, the wild thought that he could fight his way out using his own merchandise assailed him, but it was dashed as quickly as it appeared; he wasn’t much of a fighter and he was only half-sure of what some of the stuff could do. Instead, he shuffled along the wall.

“Look, you - you seem to know what you’re doing, and I don’t want to cause any trouble. Just take what you want and I’ll… you’ll never hear from me again.” He scooched around the opposite end of the counter. ~~~~

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Clem,” the man replied, watching him try to sneak away. “I am here to confiscate _all_ things mystic.”

Clem yelped again when the big man suddenly moved, much faster than one would expect of his size. He was slammed against the wall, rattling the strange objects on the shelves behind him. Seeing stars, he didn’t notice as the giant pulled his arms behind him and bound them together with magnetic cuffs. His vision cleared marginally when he was pulled back around.

“What… what did I ever do to you?” he slurred. “I take returns!”

The talking man walked up to some of the displays, tapping the floor with his umbrella-cane. “You are a danger to humanity. A threat,” he picked up a mystic device that released, well, Clem didn’t know what other than _very bad things_ , “that threatens. What need do Yokai have of a store like this on the surface?”

Clem grappled to come up with an answer that wouldn’t piss this guy off. All that came out were a bunch of bleats and stutters. 

The man looked disgusted and put the device back down. “Hun, have the O’Neil’s transfer these wares to the lab; their plane should be landing soon. We’ll take Clem, here, to Cocytus.”

Clem shuddered. He didn’t like the sound of that. There was also the terrifying fact that he increasingly suspected that these guys were all human. He tried not to think about what that meant… “I’m sure I don’t need to see, ah, Mr. Cocytus,” he stammered. “You guys can just let him know that-”

The man cut him off with a laugh. It sounded raspy and strange. The grip on Clem’s shoulders tightened and he realized the Altaic giant, Hun, was laughing, too. His shoulders shook, but he made no sound that the Yokai’s floppy ears could register.

“How misinformed,” the man composed himself. “Cocytus is not a man, but a place.” He reached behind the counter and pulled out an empty, reusable, grocery bag. He approached them with it. “And in that place, _I_ am God.”

He pulled the bag over his head and Clem knew nothing more.


	2. Chapter 2

April O’Neil stared at her phone for the millionth time. The two most recent texts from her mother stared back at her.

_Just landed! We’ll see you at home for dinner!_

_Have to run a quick errand for bossman real fast, should be done by 8/8:30?_

_We’ll get ice cream!_

April glanced at the digital clock next to her bed. It read 9:06pm in angry red letters. She groaned and flopped her head on her pillow.

Mayhem poofed next to her in concern and nuzzled her side. He mewed anxiously. 

“I’m _fine_ , Mayhem,” she said through the pillow. “Ya don’t gotta hover.”

Mayhem mewed again and nudged her until she sat up. “I mean, it’s not like I canceled plans with the guys because they flew in a day early,” she told him. “Or that I still could have gone to that rooftop showing of _Jupiter Jim’s 55th Last Trip to the Moon_ with them had I known they’d be late. I’m not like… _inconvenienced_ or anything.” Her face dropped into an expression of horror. “Am I bad for saying that? Of course I’m glad my parents are back in town! And early! But, a girl had plans, ya know?”

Mayhem chirped.

April moaned and flopped back down. “I’m a horrible monster.”

Other kids thought her parents were cool. They were cool! When April was younger she thought her parents were spies: doing work for the government, going on long missions all over the globe, bringing back really weird and cool things. Now, she was pretty sure they were just government-sanctioned conspiracy theorists. What else could you call ‘anomalistic investigators’? They checked out weird and freaky stuff all over the world, but most of it was nothing. In fact, the _actual_ weirdness was right here in New York, where she was. A Hidden City, mutants, Yokai, the, _shudder_ , the ‘Stadium Incident’, as the media called it.

Not that she could tell her parents any of this. They were cool with the ‘I’ve adopted a mutated cat named Mayhem’ story, but they were in Japan when the Shredder was resurrected and _freaked out_ when they saw the damage done to New York. She couldn’t just tell them she was in the middle of that fight! Or any other fight, for that matter. She’d never leave the house again! She’d never get to hang out with the guys again!

Her wallowing was interrupted by the sound of a key in the door. In a flash, she was in the living room with a big smile plastered on her face as her parents walked in.

“You’re home!”

“We’re home!” Her vibrant mother, Robyn O’Neil, danced over with her bags and hugged her still with arms full of carry-on luggage. Her frizzy fro tickled April’s cheek. “We missed you so much!”

“Sorry we’re late, sweetie,” her father apologized. Augustus ‘Augie’ O’Neil hauled the last of the luggage through the door. There were new stickers on the suitcases with the Brazilian flag. His glasses were slightly askew and some sweat beaded on his bald head. “We thought it was just a quick thing but there turned out to be a lot, ah, _more_ -”

“Did you already eat dinner?” Robyn ruffled her daughter’s hair. 

“Yeah, I mean, it’s after nine, of course I ate dinner, ha ha,” April laughed. _Oh god, that sounds so fake! Get a grip, girl!_ “Did a, dijoo guys eat? Already? Dinner?”

“We grabbed something to go from the airport after we heard from the boss,” Augie replied. 

“But, we’re still up for ice cream! As promised!” Robyn hugged her close.

“Yeah, ice cream, great!” April tried not to squirm in her mother’s second hug. “Are there any places still open?”

“Well, let’s check!” She could hear her father tapping on his smartphone. _Please be closed, please be closed, please be closed… why am I wishing that?_

“Huh, well, um, the closest one is-”

“You know what? That’s okay!” April bounced backwards out of the hug. “You guys have had a long day and I’m sure you’re really tired, so we’ll just get ice cream tomorrow! Or um, how long you guys in town?

Her parents stopped and exchanged a sneaky, yet excited glance. It was like they’d been holding in a secret they were bursting to tell, though she had the sinking feeling that was exactly the case. April’s picturesque smiled widened as her trepidation rose.

“We’ve been promoted!”

“What?” Her mind blanked.

“The bureau got _insane_ funding after the Stadium Incident and we’re finally seeing the trickle-down. Bossman’s launching and re-launching all _kinds_ of projects. Your mother and I were asked to train the new group of field operatives, so we’ll be in New York for the next several months, at least!”

Robyn scooped her up in yet another hug. “No more weeks-long missions. We’ll get to spend some real quality time together as a family!”

“That’s… great!” They were staying home? No more trips? Oh no, would they still expect her to observe the ten o’clock bedtime? Family dinners on Sundays? Texts letting them know she made it to wherever she was going okay? _Oh geez, that probably means no more blasting Bardcore in the living room…_

“And we’ll have to finally meet those friends of yours, the Splintersons,” Augie said. “That’s been long overdue, don’t ya think?”

April’s smile froze to her face.

“Yeah! Totally…”

* * *

In the master bedroom later that night, Robyn flopped face down on the bed. “I don’t think April’s excited that we’re staying home.”

“What? What makes you say that?” Augie set his medical bag on the edge of the bed and unzipped a suitcase. “She normally complains that we’re gone for too long.”

“When she was a little girl she did.” She rolled over and smiled fondly at the memory of her tiny daughter tapping her foot and scowling at them. _What took you so long?_ So outspoken, even at that age. “April’s always told us exactly what’s on her mind, but today she was just smiling and nodding. You didn’t notice that?”

Augie’s face softened. “You think she’s upset with us but didn’t want to say anything?”

Robyn threw up her hands. “Yes! Maybe we shouldn’t have kept the promotion as a surprise. All she heard was ‘the rules are back’!”

“Hey, April’s always been pretty mature for age, she-”

“She’s _sixteen_ , Augie, but she’s been living like a college student! Now she’s just moved back in with her parents, or rather her parents just moved back in with her.” Robyn sighed and dragged her hands across her face. “I was just so excited to…” _be together_.

For years, Robyn had never listened to other moms who chastised her for ‘being gone too long from her baby’. She loved her work and was determined to raise a strong, independent daughter who could handle herself while she and Augie were away. There was just no way she could give up her job, she was a _monster hunter_ for crying out loud, how cool was that? Life was too full of adventure to spend it in one place, and she hoped to pass that attitude on to April. It seemed to have worked well enough for them all until…

The Stadium Incident had rattled her. Some beast had attacked the city and her only child was there all alone. They hadn’t even realized what happened until a day later since their team had been chasing ghosts in Aokigahara for a week. It was another day until they had finally managed to contact April and make sure she was okay. She never wanted to feel that kind of fear again. She’d been a mess this whole last mission. This promotion was the best way to rectify the situation, but maybe she’d only been thinking of herself and not how April would take it-

Robyn was interrupted from her thoughts as her husband softly kissed her on the lips.

“Enough of that,” he said. “I can hear you thinking too loudly. We’re home, we moved a whole store’s worth of mystic items off the street, we completed the project in Brazil, of which you kicked _ass_ , by the way, and we’ll all get ice cream tomorrow. April’s a teenage girl; we’re lucky we made it _this_ far without a bunch of angst. She’s entitled to some awkwardness now and again. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t love us. You good?”

She smiled and squeezed his hand. “I’m good.”

“Excellent.” Augie rose and started unpacking his medical bag, which he thankfully hadn’t needed to use on this latest mission. “You know, even if she does feel like we’re crimping on her freedom, Bishop will probably have us put in overtime making sure these new recruits are in tip top form. We might have to bunk at HQ a couple nights.”

Robyn lifted her head, catching on. “And I’m sure we can revise some household conditions for sixteen-year-olds. Maybe an 11pm bedtime?” _And homecooked family dinners every day? And movie nights? And mother-daughter spa days? Thank goodness April’s in between jobs right now, I want to soak in as much time with her as we can! Hmm, maybe an increased allowance to make up for that? Some spending money? Slumber parties? I’m dying to meet her friends, what are teenagers into these days? Wait, would that make me the weird mom that’s trying too hard to be hip? What about-_

Another kiss interrupted her thoughts. “You’re doing it, again.”

“Sorry.” She blushed. “I’m just glad to be home.”

_For good._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Points to you if you know where the names for April's parents come from! (There's gonna be a lot of '03 references in this...)


	3. Chapter 3

_He was alone._

_It was dark. There was only the ever-present dripping of the sewers around him. He couldn’t even see his breath fog in front of his face, but it had to have been. He was cold. He was alone._

_Or was he?_

_The unfamiliar loomed up from behind and was upon him before he could scream. He wasn’t alone, but he didn’t have his brothers, his daddy. He shook and cried and the world phased out until he could see again. He knew what was coming, though, and wished for the darkness of the sewers once more._

_He was in a round room. It was large. It was white. Ghostly shadows lined the doors all around. The room always made him feel sick but his mind was racing too fast for him to piece together why. The room stretched taller around him, swallowing him as he cried._

_Then there was a loud roar, an immense crash, and everything rushed around him-_

“Aaah!” Raph awoke with a scream. He hyperventilated for a moment, trying to catch his breath, and blinked as his eyes slowly adjusted to his surroundings.

He was in his room. Laceface was propped on a pile of assorted junk across from him. Ghostbear winked at him from a poster. The familiar sights warmed him enough to reach onto the shelf behind his bed and pull down Mayor Cuddlecakes. He hugged the teddy bear close and breathed deeply. After moment, he also grabbed Dr. Huggenstein and Captain Snuggles.

“That’s better,” he said to himself. “It was just a dream.”

He hugged the bears a little longer until he felt less alone. Yawning, he reached for his phone to see what time it was.

Whoa. Okay, that was later than he normally slept. There were several notifications from a group chat he had missed. Raph scrolled through them as he blinked away the last dredges of sleep.

**_Donnie’s Cell_ **

_Hey, anybody want to come to the junkyard with me_

_today? April? Mikey?_

**_Neon Leon_ **

_Bueller_

**_April O’Neil!_ **

_Totes would but im getting ice cream with my folks_

_for lunch, maybe later?_

**_Mikey <3_ **

_THAT SOUNDS AWESOME! Why can't we have ice_

_cream for lunch?? >_ _☹_

**_Neon Leon_ **

_actually no one said we couldn’t. thinking what I’m_

_thinking?_

**_Mikey <3_ **

_Ice cream party in the lair at 3! Be there or be square! :D_

**_Neon Leon_ **

_WITH self-serve topping bar_

**_April O’Neil!_ **

_Isn’t that normally for froyo?_

**_Mikey <3_ **

_Not in this household!_

**_Donnie’s Cell_ **

_So, that’s a ‘no’ from everyone on the junkyard mission?_

**_Neon Leon_ **

_dude bro, go tomorrow, we need the tank’s soft serve_

_machine for the ice cream party_

**_Donnie’s Cell_ **

_What, no! Do you know how much stuff I need to get?_

_I’m not leaving the tank unattended with you!_

**_Mikey <3_ **

_Ice cream party first, then we all go to the junkyard!_

**_Donnie’s Cell_ **

_Junkyard first, then ice cream_

**_Neon Leon_ **

_LAME_

**_Donnie’s Cell_ **

_It’s MY tank!_

**_Neon Leon_ **

_Uh, you mean OUR tank, brother o’mine?_

**_Donnie’s Cell_ **

_Sure, when you spend all your free time pouring your blood,_ _sweat, tears, heart and soul into building a functional vehicle_

_out of a movie prop where half of the panels are but aesthetic_ _decals and the original engine only got 0.3 miles to the_

_GALLON and then become the sole maintainer of said genius_ _refurbishment making sure it gets its tires rotated, rockets_

_refueled, and software updated for the following months then_ _yes, you may take joint ownership of the vehicle._

**_April O’Neil!_ **

_shots fired_

**_Neon Leon_ **

_If you weren’t so anal about leaving us with the_

_tank ‘unattended’ we could make good on that_

**_April O’Neil!_ **

_popcorn.gif_

**_Mikey <3_ **

_Pleeeease, Dee?_

**_Donnie’s Cell_ **

_Fine. Keep the tank. I’ll take a Shell Hog._

**_Mikey <3_ **

_THAAAANKS!!!! You’re the bestest brother ever!!!_ _😊_ _😊_

**_April O’Neil!_ **

_Have fun guys_

**_Raphael the Oldest_ **

_I’ll go with you, Donnie_

He typed as fast as he could, because after his nightmare he really didn’t like the idea of any of them going anywhere by themselves. They may have defeated the Shredder, but who knew what was coming next? Who knew what could happen?

Raph grabbed Mayor Cuddlecakes for one last hug. “Keep it together, Raph, it was just a dream. Let’s not start off the day super anxious, huh?” He held up the bear and shook its head.

“ _No siree, let’s not do that at all!”_

“Sound plan, Mr. Mayor. Now, let’s find Donnie before he leaves.”

* * *

“Oh, he already left,” Leo said.

He and Mikey were covered in an assortment of flour, chocolate fudge, and what Raph hoped was strawberry syrup and not blood. They had laid a tarp on the floor of the tank, but fingerprints made of various substances covered the controls. Raph had found them by following the sugary trail from the kitchen to the garage.

“What? When?”

“I don’t know, maybe twenty minutes ago? You may want to give him some space, he seemed pretty steamed.”

“No duh.” Did they think he hadn’t seen the group chat? “Any idea which junkyard he was headed for?”

“Repo Mantis Salvage!” Mikey piped.

“What?! Is he crazy? What about the manty-cat?”

“Relax, Raph, she’s locked in her mountain home,” Mikey said. “And Donnie mentioned he’d been needing to go there for a while.”

Raph narrowed his eyes. “Then why didn’t you volunteer to accompany him?”

Leo sucked in a breath. Mikey paused in mixing something in a bowl and shot him a look that had to belong to one of his ‘doctor’ personalities. “Because I went with him on the last _three_ trips, Raphael.” He turned back and continued mixing. “Today I wanted to make ice cream.”

That was a good point. He really put his foot in his mouth. Leo was still cringing at the tension, so it was time to wrap this up. “Fair enough. I’m sorry, Mikey, I shouldn’t have said that.” He tapped his fingers together. “Is the other Shell Hog still here?”

“Right outside, _hermano_.”

* * *

The sun was still pretty high in the sky, which bothered Raph. Donnie was always pushing his junk trips earlier and earlier. “I need time to find everything, and I need to _see_ to find _anything,_ ” he had complained when Raph commented on it once. “I know what I’m doing.”

He could admit, however, that it made driving easier. He could see well enough that he not only made it to the junkyard in record time, but could drive fast enough that no one could really notice that a giant, green, turtle was at the controls.

After circling the perimeter, he couldn’t find the other Shell Hog, so either Donnie had hid it really well or somehow took it inside. He stowed his around the back and hopped the fence, careful to give the front shack where Repo Mantis lived and worked a wide berth.

The towering mounds of scrap were like a maze. It was surprisingly quiet, save for a few distant bird calls. After a couple turns the heaps of cars and other random items began to feel uncomfortably like the labyrinth at Run of the Mill Pizza. Anxiety began creeping in on the tranquility. Raph started sweating as he pushed further.

“Donnie! Hey Donnie, where are you?” he whisper-called. He jumped when a mouse knocked over a tin can and scurried away. Were the shadows longer? How long had he been roaming the endless trash piles? How much time had passed? Were the mounds getting taller?

“Don’t panic, Raph,” he told himself. He squeezed his eyes shut. His stomach rumbled. When had he last eaten? Was there any food in a junkyard? How could he find food? For that, how could he find his way out? Was he lost? He was lost! He was going to starve to death in a maze of junk! Where were his brothers? Why was he alone?

There was a loud clatter above him to his left. “Raph?” He opened his eyes and saw Donnie peering at him through his goggles from the top of a stack. He was frowning. “Are you okay?”

“Donnie!” He tried to keep some of the relief out of his voice but knew he failed. His knees were shaking slightly. He attempted a smile through his jelly bones. “Just the turtle I was coming to see!”

Donnie scooped something up in his arms. The claws on his Spider-Shell extended and walked him down from the top of the junkpile, anchoring themselves in whatever secure foothold they could find. It was clearly a well-practiced maneuver because he was down in seconds.

“What are you doing here?” His brother flipped up his goggles and gave him a quick hug which chased away the last of his jitters. Raph chuckled nervously, then straightened his back.

“I saw the group texts, but only got up like an hour ago. Figured you, ah, wouldn’t want to be alone. Right?” He tapped his fingers together.

Donnie raised a slightly-smudged eyebrow. “You’re having nightmares again, aren’t you?”

“No! I mean, what makes you say that?”

“Sleeping in late, on the verge of a panic attack, coming after me when no one else tagged along – how long has this been going on?”

“Not very. Just recently. Last night.” Raph’s shoulders drooped. “Yeah.”

Donnie considered this quietly, and Raph could practically see the gears turning and clicking in his brother’s mind. He nodded once, to himself, upon reaching a conclusion. “In that case, dear brother, I have the perfect distraction.” He pointed, with a flourish, to an oblong object sitting atop a distant scrap heap. “Smashing _that_.”

Raph squinted. “What is it?”

“ _That_ , my friend, is an engine of an Airbus A380, which should contain about 11 _tons_ of titanium.” Raph swore he could see Donnie drooling a little bit.

“What’s it doing _here?_ ”

“Number one rule of dumpster diving, Raphael: we do not ask questions about what we find. As long as we adhere to that, the gold mine keeps giving us gold. And gold like _that_ doesn’t stick around for very long.” He walked around a non-descript slag of sheet metal to where his Shell Hog was hidden and placed the car battery he had liberated in one its compartments. He rubbed his hands together. “Ready to make some noise?”

Raph glanced around. “Repo or his cat aren’t gonna hear us?”

“Actually, I haven’t seen Mrs. Nubbins in a while,” Donnie commented, heading for the aircraft engine. “Whatever system he has in place seems to be working.”

“That’s a relief.” Raph picked his way across the yard and started climbing the scrap pile after his brother. “So, how are we going to get 11 tons of titanium back to the lair?”

Donnie pursed his lips and flipped down his goggles. “We’re not,” he said, a bit bitterly. “You didn’t happen to drive the Turtle Tank here by any chance?”

“No,” he apologized.

“Then we smash it to pieces and take what we can. With two Shell Hogs that’s still more than I had expected to get, so, at least it’s not a total loss.” Reaching the top, Donnie pulled out his tech bo and started circling the engine.

Raph clambered up next to him and looked around. They seemed much higher up than they were. He could see the whole junkyard from here! Whew, there was the back fence where he parked the Shell Hog, that wasn’t too far, after all. There was the pile where Donnie parked his, and over there was – his stomach dropped.

“-originally I was just going to let gravity do the work, but with you here – what?” Donnie broke off, annoyed, as Raph shook him.

“Isn’t that the mountain that holds Mrs. Nubbins?”

Donnie leaned around the engine from where he was working to get his tech bo in a position to tip it off the pile. “I believe so, why?”

“Where’s the bus?”

Both turtles went silent for a moment. A breeze stirred them, but nothing else moved, certainly not a gigantic mantis-cat mutant. The bus was indeed gone from the front of the mountain.

“Perhaps it’s driven farther up inside,” Donnie suggested. “Like a stuck cork. Now c’mon, let’s get this engi-”

“We should check it out.” Raph pulled out his tonfas.

Donnie groaned in exasperation. “Raph, if she was out we would have noticed; it’s pretty hard to miss a rampaging manty-cat! Now I _really_ need to get this engine down!” He pressed a button on his tech bo and one of the rockets engaged. The metal around them groaned.

“No time for that. Power smash jitsu!” Raph smashed his tonfas together and created a large red fist that shimmered around his own. Donnie yelped and dove out of the way as he punched the aircraft engine off the pile and into a million pieces.

“One and done! Now, let’s go check out that missing bus.” He jumped off the pile and Donnie’s protests faded away.

The mountain wasn’t far. Raphael slipped closer, keeping an eye out for Repo, and crept towards the entrance. Taking a breath, he peered down the tunnel.

No bus.

Granted, it was dark. Maybe it was just pulled up really, really far. He took a couple steps in when he heard clattering behind him. Whirling around, he saw Donnie catching up to him, arms and spider claws full of pieces from the engine. “Thanks for helping collect the parts back there-”

Raph shushed him. “Got a light?”

Donnie rolled his eyes. “Of course.” The metal jostled in his arms as he reached over to tap his wristband. A light extended from the back of his shell and illuminated the tunnel before them. Raph’s heart dropped to his gut. There was no bus.

“Okay… so not a stuck cork.”

Raph growled and pushed forward. Donnie trailed after him, the light making their shadows bob. At the center of the mountain Raph halted and looked around for the cage.

It was open.

Nothing moved.

“Huh. Perhaps she is at the vet?”

“Cut it out, Donnie, this is serious.” Raph crept closer to the cage, scrutinizing the walls for any signs of movement.

“Well, there’s not many places she could be! Not and not get noticed.” His brother tapped his foot impatiently. “I think we’re in the clear.”

“Dijoose guys bring ‘er back?” slurred a voice.

The turtles yelled and Donnie dropped all the scrap metal in his arms. The light swung towards the tunnel and there stood Repo Mantis. He looked awful. One arm/claw was braced on the wall he was leaning on and he slouched like his legs could barely hold him up. His hair poked out in every direction and huge bags rested under his bloodshot, green eyes. As he stepped closer, the stench of alcohol rolled off of him in waves.

“Didja?” he repeated. His voice was hoarse.

“We ah, we didn’t,” Raph said.

Repo’s face twisted in rage. “Why not?!” he shouted and swung at them with his claw. His aim was wildly off and the motion made him spin in a full circle. Both turtles ducked out of the way on instinct and watched as he collapsed on his tush, sobbing. “Haven’t youse done enough?”

That didn’t make a lot of sense. Donnie rose from his crouch. “Hey Repo, it’s me, your favorite shoplifter,” he said, cautiously approaching the mutant. “Are you saying someone took Mrs. Nubbins?”

Repo sniffed. “About two days ago. Coupla feds showed an’ said they needed to, to bring ‘er in, that she was a hazard to society. I told them no way! She was a sweetie who just gets a li’l hangry sumtimes. But they had papers an’ badges, and equipment enough to bring ‘er down wi’ jus’ the two of ‘em. I ask when they’re gonna bring ‘er back an’ get the run around! Typical fed answer.” He rubbed his knees. “I jus’ want my cat back,” he mumbled.

The brothers exchanged a glance. “Come on, Repo, let’s get you up.” Raph lifted the mutant up by the arm and waited patiently as he found his footing. “Sounds like it’s been a rough couple of days for you.”

“Oh, it has,” he answered as they started back down the tunnel. “I jus’ don’t want ‘em to kill her.”

“Did they mention who they worked for?” Donnie spoke, quickly trying to get off the dark subject. He readjusted one metal claw to help keep the salvage owner balanced upright. “Were they FBI? CIA?” He glanced at the aircraft parts in his arms. “FAA?”

“No, I never heard of ‘em.” They reached the end of the tunnel and Repo squinted in the sunlight. “Started with a B, I think. Or something.” He suddenly reared and swayed before the entrance to his home/office. “One of ‘em had a scar on his face.”

“We’ll keep an eye out for Mrs. Nubbins,” Raph said, patting his arm. “And for any creepy, scarred agents. For now, let’s get you to bed.”

“Snuggly-wuggly…”

The turtles left Repo tucked in on his side tightly enough so that he couldn’t move around until he was soberly coordinated. Raph drummed his fingers on his arm as they walked back to the Shell Hogs.

“I don’t like this, Donnie. Since when do government agents pick up mutants like this?”

“They don’t, or else they would have taken Repo, too,” his brother pointed out. “We know how uncontrollable the missus can get; it’s not inconceivable that there would have been an incident leading to some kind of intervention.”

“I guess you’re right…” Raph tapped his fingers together and glanced behind him. The feeling of the unfamiliar from his dream had returned, but for some reason he couldn’t shake the impression that it now wore a black suit and tie.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on tumblr @danzinora-switch if anyone wants to discuss rottmnt w/me. I'm getting to parts of the story where I have little doodles that I'll probably post there. Plus, you can check out writing updates if I'm taking a while between posts.

Human life was valuable.

John Bishop watched from a high window as the first official day of Project Eurydice unfolded below. The training room had not been as full as it was now in… a long time. Dozens of fresh, new recruits, eager for action, lined up before the O’Neil’s. Human lives, willing to be put on the line to make sure something like the _Stadium Incident_ never happened again.

Or anything worse. Bishop knew worse.

Robyn was currently demonstrating one of the pieces of equipment they would use to catch mutants. It was a high-velocity tranq gun that was so massive it looked like a small cannon. For its size, he knew the weapon was surprisingly light. The hooks on the bottom and sides allowed one to attach it to a vehicle and take down large prey. The darts themselves were more powerful than average tranqs, given that mutants and monsters (and more, Bishop also knew) tended to have almost supernatural abilities. They had been very effective when he and Hun had used them only a few days prior.

Bishop kept an eye on those of the recruits who were paying the most attention. On the battlefield, there would be little room for mistakes, and no reprieve for freezing on the spot. They needed fortitude, resilience, and dedication. These were the people on which the toughest part of the project rested.

It had been tricky to pin down the finer details, but this had to take priority. Eurydice, much like Project Bronze, attracted a more general audience, and appealed most to Washington’s funding. The mutant problem in New York had been going on for long enough, and it was time to look for a cure.

However, people were surprisingly adaptable. Several humans who had been so brutally mutated still continued on with their lives, running businesses and raising families. It was as if nothing had changed for them. Bishop had the records of a Todd Capybara running a puppy rescue without any trouble and visited a praying mantis in charge of his own salvage enterprise. These… citizens… still had rights. Some of them did not even wish to volunteer for reverse-mutation trials.

But they were not the entire sample size. Several wild animals had also been mutated, most notably the silverfish, which was a growing problem. There were also a few mutated humans who decided to use their metamorphosis for crime, or who simply could not control their new abilities. These were the dangers. These were the ones that would not go down without a fight.

Eurydice was a win-win: criminals that were too dangerous for the police to handle were taken off the street, and a cure could be found and tested without interrupting any law-abiding mutant humans’ lives. The point of Eurydice was to capture, not kill.

And, as more mutants were brought in, it would allow Bishop to ferret out which ones were actually Yokai and separate them for Project Achilles.

_Human_ life was valuable.

He shook from his musings to see that the team was exiting the training area. Bishop walked across the upper hallway to another glass window on the other side, where the team entered a lab below. Project Bronze took up most of the space in BAI Headquarters for the time being, as they already had ample mystical objects to study. Small breakthroughs were being made every day, and the heaven-sent funding meant they could explore more ideas with better safety measures. That was something he insisted above all else. He was well aware of the danger mystic objects presented, and of the corruptive influence mystic energy could have on humans. Studies of cultic Foot rituals from Japan told him that one should avoid messing around with such powers without first taking the time to understand them. He certainly didn’t want to wind up with a flaming head, and he didn’t want anyone else working under him to, either.

Bishop assumed the team’s presentation was at the point where they would learn how to watch out for mystic energy, but instead the O’Neil’s walked to the back where a large, fogged window encompassed one wall.

Ah. They were showing them the cat. Bishop touched a hidden panel on the wall and the lab’s audio filtered in.

“This specimen is unique because it’s the first mutation of an animal crossed with another animal,” Robyn explained. “When we go out, most of what we’ll see are wild animals with enhanced abilities – mutated birds are normally birds that are just very giant, certain snakes may have more lethal venom and greater range, and the silverfish, of course, can multiply - but they all still have the DNA of one creature. Not so with any human mutants, and this cat.”

She touched a panel and the window unfogged. The recruits clustered around to peer down at the gigantic praying mantis cat asleep on the floor of a large, padded cage. Most were shocked at its sheer size. Long gouges raked the walls all the way up to the ceiling. It was an astonishing sight to behold.

“If this gets loose, it’s your job to bring it back in.”

Bishop smiled to himself as the recruits did a double-take. The tactic was unscripted, but effective. They were now taking the threat seriously. The O’Neil’s appeared to be doing well running their new positions; he was glad to have promoted them. They were good agents, if a little naïve at times. Perhaps, once the success of Eurydice as a whole was determined, he could clear them for the bigger picture.

Augustus stepped in and began his lecture on field dressing. The medic had plenty of experience not only with conventional wounds, but unusual injuries one encountered when chasing mystic monsters. As he spoke, one of the recruits tapped the window.

The cat awakened, yowled, and slashed a claw at it.

Everyone fell back, but though the window held it made all the scientists in the lab scramble to make sure the blow didn’t cause any structural damage. Robyn quickly fogged it once again, hiding their presence from the beast, while Augustus rushed to address the recruit who had tapped the window. The vibration from the cat’s strike on the glass had hurt their arm.

Bishop’s smile vanished. What a stupid idiot. They wouldn’t last a day against the real threat. The intensity of the strike and the simplicity of the injury reminded him of another truth. He rubbed his right calf as he felt it twinge.

Human life was fragile.

New recruits would do for now, but Project Jericho was still a go. And in order for _that_ to succeed, using human lives was too risky.

A door to his right opened and Hun walked up to him. He was sporting a grey, knit, infinity scarf today. The giant glanced down at the resolving chaos in the lab below, then signed to Bishop: _rookie mistake?_

“It’s to be expected,” Bishop replied with a trace of annoyance. Muting the lab, he signed back: _we need to relaunch Project Maria_.

Hun nodded. _Shall I fetch Dr. Chaplin?_

“Not yet.” Bishop sighed. “I believe there is still work left to be done resolving the… fiasco.” He gripped the railing by the window tighter. Maria really _had_ ended in a fiasco. He could already feel the headache he was going to get arguing the case to officially relaunch the project before Washington…

Hun tapped the railing, drawing his attention away from his maddening thoughts. He looked down, and realized he was white-knuckling it so hard he was starting to leave dents. Finger-sized dents led to questions from individuals who did not have the clearance to hear the answers. He released the railing.

“Thank you,” he exhaled in one long breath, smoothing out his tie. He flexed his hands. As frustrating as the situation was, the angry emotions wouldn’t do him any good in actually trying to resolve it. Compartmentalize, think, plan, act. Never lose control, especially of oneself. Deal with the emotion, think about what needed to get done, figure out how to do it, then _do it_.

“I think I’ll pay a visit to Cocytus first,” he decided. “Keep an eye on the recruits here; if anyone else tries to poke the proverbial bear, fire them.”

Hun bowed his head in acknowledgement. Bishop cast one last look down at the lab. The biometric readings on the wall indicated the cat mutant had calmed down and returned to its nap. The scientists hovered around the window now that the recruits had left, taking notes. He narrowed his eyes. There were so many projects that had barely just begun, and now with trying to tackle Maria…

He stalked off as his blood pressure rose again. He would work on Project Achilles some before addressing what went wrong with Maria. He was in the mood for blood.

* * *

“I see you have come in for breakfast. Did you remember to set your alarm this morning?”

“Shut up, Barry,” April muttered. Her brain was way too tired for this. Normally, she would _just_ now be getting up, but that would mean another awkward breakfast with her parents before they went off to work. It was just too _weird_.

_“So… anything exciting happening for today?” Her mom beamed proudly at her over a heap of home-made waffles._

_“Uhh, you mean at school?” she hesitated._

_“Yeah! Any labs in science class? Plans with friends? How’s Sunita doing?”_

_“Good, she’s good.” She took a few bites of the waffles before realizing her mom was still delightedly watching her. “Umm…”_

_“How’s that Dale kid? He seemed to like you last I remember.”_

_April choked. Her father looked up from his coffee and peered at her closely. She thumped her chest a few times to swallow breakfast down before he decided she needed the Heimlich._

_“No, Mom. Just no.”_

_“Just looking out for you, sweetheart. I know how boys are at that age. Hey, don’t you sometimes meet with Donnie and the guys before class? Which school do they go to ag-”_

_“Not enough time, today, thanks!” April shoveled the rest of the food in her mouth and pushed away from the table. Her father also rose, awkwardly adjusting his glasses._

_“Do you want us to drop you off?”_

So now here she was bright and early in her school’s cafeteria, getting served by the Yokai who tried to destroy humanity. It was so much better, despite the sleep deprivation.

“Perhaps you should try departing your sleeping area from the correct angle,” Draxum continued.

“Okay, that didn’t make a lick of sense,” April snapped.

He sighed. “‘Dr. Positive’ dislikes hateful morning attitudes with which to start the day, so he recommended ‘waking up on the right side of the bed’.” Draxum handed her a breakfast burrito. “He failed establish _which_ side of the bed was the correct one, however.”

Despite herself, April sniggered. “Sounds like something he would say,” she yawned. “No, what I need is coffee.”

Draxum’s face twisted into one of disgust. “Coffee! What is it with you humans and your bean juice? The prices are exorbitant and the wait time ridiculous!”

“You can make your own coffee, ya know,” April propped her elbow on the lunch counter and took a bite of the burrito. “In fact, it might do you some good.”

Draxum snorted. “No human potion is going to make me feel-” he broke off suddenly. “I mean… perhaps one day.”

April frowned. She looked around to see what caused the change in sheep-man’s demeanor and then spotted Mikey waving at her through the kitchen door. Her eyes bugged and she almost choked on her burrito. “Mikey?”

“Please, don’t,” Draxum closed his eyes as she ran around the counter and burst into the kitchen.

“Good morning, April!” Mikey chirped. “How are you doing?”

“Are you spying on Draxum?” she demanded.

Mikey chuckled, waving her off. “Of course not!”

She looked at him pointedly. He was wearing a long trench coat, wide-brimmed hat, and had his Groucho mustache and glasses perched on his face. Awareness dawned on him.

“Oh, I see what this looks like. Believe it or not, I’m running an errand! But, since Teddy-Bear Town doesn’t open till 9, and I was in the area, I figured I’d drop in and see how my adopted dad and best friend are doing. Just don’t tell my _real dad._ ” He bumped shoulders with her. “Sooo, how ya doin’?”

April sighed. “Honestly, it’s been tough. It’s like we don’t know what to talk about! Every conversation is like ‘so, how was your day?’ ‘oh, can’t tell you because it’s a government secret, how was your day?’ ‘oh, can’t tell you because my friends are mutants and you work for the government’. And so we wind up talking about nothing.”

“Sounds challenging,” Mikey nodded. “What exactly do your parents do, again?”

“Well, now it’s changed,” she moaned. “They’re training recruits for the field. Mikey, what if this will never end?”

“Hey, hey, cheer up! As Dr. Positive would say: nothing lasts forever.”

She stared at him. “Thanks?”

“That means including the bad stuff!” Mikey spread his arms wide. “This awkward get-to-know-your-parents stuff won’t last forever! Something’s gonna give and it will!”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she muttered.

“Say, when do _we_ get to meet your parents?”

“Later,” she said, scarfing down the rest of her burrito. The first bell was already ringing overhead. “Much, much later.”

* * *

Project Maria.

Goddamn.

Bishop clenched his teeth and rubbed his temples as he stared at the lines of code salvaged from the mech, trying to stave off a headache. There wasn’t much left to work with – most of it had been utterly destroyed.

_Of course it was destroyed, the mech was rampaging through the city! How else is someone supposed to take down a hacked government prototype?_

_He_ should have taken it down, or, the BAI would have been able to had they not already been suffering under budget cuts by that point. At least then they could have claimed they fixed their own mess and been allowed to investigate how the hell someone managed to hack it in the first place before paranoid bureaucrats shut it down.

Which, judging by what the scant data was telling him, was begrudgingly genius. It looked like the hacker had linked the mech to a video game. The mech’s AI took commands from a single user, which eventually allowed the hacker to step away from controlling it remotely and let it operate on its own. It was creative, he would give them that.

Still a billion-dollar mess to clean up.

Beyond that, there wasn’t much to go on. Getting melted by a laser did that to circuitry. Bishop _still_ wasn’t able to determine the source of the hack, or transmission point, or if there were multiple servers at work. The game was his best shot.

So be it. He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders. This hacker was going to face the consequences for damaging one of his most successful projects to date, as well as the reputation of the organization he’d worked so hard to form. No doubt they had other nefarious intentions, either against the government of the United States or his own plans. This was a pro, and Bishop was willing to do whatever it took to bring the user responsible for uploading the commands to his mech to justice. He navigated to their profile, ready for a battle of wit and wills with-

“Bootyyyshaker9000?”

Click. Click, click.

Yes, that was indeed the hacker’s username. Alright. Not _quite_ what he had been expecting.

There was an email account attached to the profile for setting up the game. Bishop smirked. He rose from the terminal connected to the mech’s salvaged core and walked over to a dark wall. A panel illuminated under his hand. Lowering his tinted glasses, a tiny laser scanned his eyes.

“Agent John Bishop, access code Two-Kilo-Oscar-Zero-Three”

The Cherubim opened their eyes.

The dark wall lit up with screen after screen of images from all over the country. Streaming videos, mobile uploads, website data, server information and more illuminated the room with a soft blue glow. People calling an Uber in Los Angeles, posting selfies in Miami, and ordering coffee with a credit card in Manhattan could all be tracked from here. No corner of the web was sacred from the hive-minded quantum computers. The Cherubim saw all.

It was a magnificent sight to behold, and always made Bishop’s heart swell. Nothing could escape his notice, nothing could sneak in the shadows, nothing could happen that he didn’t have a record of. God bless America.

**Command: find bootyyyshaker9000@email**

The Cherubim began sifting through the internet, finding every link to that email address and username. Bishop sat back in a chair and relaxed for a moment. As taxing as Maria was, at least _this_ project had never failed him. He would be able to arrest the hacker in no time-

The Cherubim blinked.

Bishop sat up. He had never seen that happen before. Frowning, he stood and crossed to the screen showing the scant files the program had been able to find.

The email had been created shortly before the Purple Game had been downloaded. The only other things on it were all junk – promotional offers, spam containing malware, a couple other stupid games that needed an account set up. The username never changed, either. There was no sent mail, no clues as to who the account belonged to, no home addresses and _no server information._

He was dealing with a ghost.

Bishop pushed his glasses further up his face. That was… an immense feat. The only way the Cherubim couldn’t find anything more than _this_ was if someone had deliberately scrubbed themselves clean from the internet. And it looked like they had done a very thorough job of it.

He slammed his fist down on a side table and cleaved it in two.

This was his only lead! How the hell does someone take down his mech and leave no trace? He had to know!

Compartmentalize. Think.

Professional hackers were paranoid. Of course someone who committed such a crime would fear being caught. If he wasn’t careful, his attempts to probe their identity would probably only spook them further. That… would be a shame.

Frustration with the cyber phantom shifted into intrigue. The extent of the scrubbing was admittedly impressive. He’d never seen anyone evade the Cherubim before. The amount of time and skill needed to successfully pull it off was something to be admired, not condemned. It would be an honor to speak with someone so at the top of their game…

A crazy idea occurred to him. He looked at the email address and stroked his chin. “Surely, this wouldn’t work,” he whispered.

But Bishop was not a man who ventured and gained nothing. He _was_ always on the lookout for the best and the brightest. Eurydice had the best brawn, but projects like Maria would require brains like this. Perhaps leveling would work where snooping had failed.

“Voice activation: compose.”

The Cherubim flipped a monitor to the BAI’s official email page.

“To Bootyyyshaker9000,” Bishop dictated as he started to pace slowly in front of the wall of screens. “It has taken me quite some time to track you down, and I admit I have gotten no further than this email. That is a very impressive accomplishment given what resources I have at my disposal. It is almost as impressive as the incident which first brought you to my attention: the takeover of a BAI Mech in downtown Manhattan. This was a very serious oversight on our part, and while my first reaction was to arrest you, it would seem a waste for someone with your skills. The BAI is growing, and we have great need for someone with your caliber of genius. I doubt you will agree to meet with me, but should you change your mind, know the offer stands. I will not arrest you; I would simply like to pick your brain. Signed,” he paused for a moment, then committed to honesty. “John Bishop. Send.”

That was one angle done, however much of a Hail Mary it may be. He preferred to have other irons in the fire. “Continue scanning for Bootyyyshaker9000 and variants, notify me of any activity.”

The Cherubim glowed brighter, circuits buzzing as Bishop left the room.


	5. Chapter 5

Donnie wiped the sweat off his brow, smearing the ink on his mask, and adjusted his goggles. He could feel the droplets trickling down the back of his shell, too, as it was far too hot down here to bother with a battle shell.

The Forge, as his brothers had dubbed it, was probably the dirtiest, hottest place in the lair. It was nestled deep below his lab and was the real Foundation for most of his work, which is why he had tried to name it as such (it didn’t stick). A custom-made ‘sewer wheel’ churned in one area, powering, well, pretty much everything so the city didn’t get suspicious when it ran its meter checks. Tools lined one wall on black-coated shelves. A cot squatted in the cleanest corner of the space, though ‘clean’ was a relative definition. The center of the Forge was also the center of the stink – Donnie didn’t have any coal or wood to use in the hearth, but he did have plenty of access to fatbergs. A good ventilation system was as vital for the smell produced as much as it was for the smoke. His brothers had tried to help him out once with melting down his scrap, but all had run away gagging, even Mikey. None of them ventured into the Forge again.

He gripped a pair of tongs and pulled his last batch of titanium out and into a slack tub. He’d already poured the previous batches into his battle-shell molds, so this was going to be saved for smaller, as-needed parts. It took a lot of work to fire up the hearth and get it hot enough to melt high-grade titanium alloys; he’d been forging the scrap for the last 3 days.

Or so he estimated. It was a long, tedious process to shape the metal into the custom designs he needed. And he had… a lot of battle-shells to rebuild.

12 battle shells destroyed.

3 jet packs

4 drones

3 Bug Zappers

His drill…

He shook his head, trying to clear those thoughts. Already he’d rebuilt 2 jet packs and 4 battle shells and had the molds for 5 more sitting now. He took the metal out of the slack tub and quickly poured it in his ‘brick’ molds. He didn’t have a way to make industry-standard rods, tubes or ingots, but having just a solid brick of titanium always made him feel giddy. Bricks meant surplus! Bricks meant resources! Bricks meant he didn’t have to go hunting for more materials…

He made one brick. That was all that was left.

It was disappointing, but without the Turtle Tank he and Raph had only been able to carry so much back to the lair. He tried not to let it bother him. Mikey had handed him a sundae tailored to all his favorite flavors when they had returned. It was nice, but the ever-present need to _rebuild and improve_ hadn’t left him. Didn’t they realize how much of his tech had been destroyed by the Shredder? Didn’t they understand how, he hated to say it, how _easily_ it had been destroyed?

The molten brick glowed at him. _Think I’m enough?_

“Of course not,” he scolded it. “But I’ll figure it out.”

He finally doused the hearth and stretched. His joints popped as he rolled his shoulders and his back ached. With the most heavy-labor-intensive part of the rebuilding process done he could suddenly feel the exhaustion he’d been holding at bay creeping in. Forging didn’t require him to think so much, for once, as he tended the fire and kept an eye on his molds, but it sure was tough on the muscles. He needed coffee. And a shower.

He walked out of the Forge on autopilot, stumbling towards the kitchen. Belatedly, he realized he had no idea what time it was, or day, for that matter. He always did try to knock out any and all melt-downs in one go. And since his brothers never bothered him in there, it had actually been quiet and peaceful. A respite from their wild, ice-cream shenanigans-

“AHH! It lives!”

Donnie frowned at Leo’s theatrics. “Is that really necessary?”

His brother regarded him from around his cup of tea. “You look like a sewer monster from one of Dad’s bedtime stories. And you smell like someone took a dump in a moldy deep fryer.”

“You would know what that smells like, wouldn’t you?” He moved closer and Leo freaked.

“What are you doing? Go take a shower, dude!”

“Leonardo, I want coffee. I will get coffee. I will shower once I have had my coffee; do not keep me from my coffee.” He headed for the Keurig, ignoring how his brother ninja-dodged his every twitch.

“You’re tracking… something… through the kitchen.”

“I’ll have Shelldon clean it up,” Donnie grunted. He closed his eyes and let the aroma of sweet ambrosia fill his senses as his coffee was made. The rest of the world faded out for a couple minutes in a haze of dark roast. He grabbed the mug with both hands when it was ready and drained it. Immediately, he set about making another cup.

Leo leaned on the counter, sipping his tea. The smell of mint cut through the coffee aroma. Huh. It was probably the morning, then. Leo only drank mint tea in the mornings so he could argue that he didn’t have to brush his teeth after breakfast because ‘the mint had already done it for him’. “So whatcha makin’ down there? This was a long stretch.”

“Nothing new,” Donnie replied off-handedly, still fixated on the pouring coffee. “Need to reinforce a lot of armor.”

Leo looked him over. Donnie could tell the gears were turning in his brother’s head, but he couldn’t determine in which direction his thoughts were going. He was too tired to pre-emptively psycho-analyze his brother in preparation for a comeback to whatever zing or profound truth he would come up with. He also didn’t like admitting his battle shells needed reinforcement to begin with, he realized, now that the first cup of coffee was hitting his brain. He hunched his shoulders as the Keurig continued to pour.

“That’s it?”

The single brick of titanium taunted him. Destroyed tech flashed through his mind. Donnie pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. “Not all of us can portal away at the last second, _Leo_.”

“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that, I meant like-” he broke off as a shriek sounded from Raph’s bedroom. Both turtles straightened and something jogged loose in Donnie’s brain from the junkyard. That’s right. Where was Mikey? Had he been able to-

“I got it,” Leo said quickly, gulping down the rest of his tea. “Seriously, take a shower.” He darted out of the kitchen before Donnie could utter any kind of response.

The Keurig dinged and he drank the second cup much more slowly as he walked to the bathroom. He paused outside of Raph’s room and heard him and Leo talking in low voices. Satisfied that the situation was being handled, he proceeded on to zoning out in a hot shower. When the water turned cooler, he reluctantly finished up and headed to his lab, absently checking his phone. 

**_Dr. Donatello, Ph.D._ **

_Hey, Raph’s having nightmares again,_

_anyone free to run to Teddy-Bear Town_

_on Tuesday? I have things I need to do._

**_Michelangelo [Insert Emojis Here]_ **

_I got it!_

_Today, 9:15am_

**_Michelangelo [Insert Emojis Here]_ **

_Does Raph already have Commissioner Graciepuffs?_

**_Neon Leon_ **

_I think you’re thinking of Missionary Fuzzywumpkins,_

_he has that one_

**_Michelangelo [Insert Emojis Here]_ **

_Sweet, one Commissioner for our big brother coming_

_right up!_

_Mission success! Be home soon!_

**_Dr. Donatello, Ph.D._ **

_Thanks, Mikey, let me know how much I owe you_

He set down his phone and rubbed his eyes. Assuming that Raph hadn’t been having consecutive nightmares, then this was the second one in four nights. Which wasn’t bad, but he didn’t know if it was the ye-olde recurring nightmare, or something new.

Probably recurring. Raph hadn’t had problems until now. Any and all Shredder-related nightmares should have already died out.

“Should have,” Donnie muttered to himself. He snagged his goggles from the back of his chair and popped out the Hidden City crystal he had incorporated into them. He held it up to the light and examined it.

Who was he kidding? He could have all the titanium in the world and it wouldn’t stand a chance against… well. If _he_ had some mystic metal, now, then maybe he could go toe to toe with mystic threats. Raph’s tonfas sure had made quick work of that airplane engine, something else he’d been trying not to let bother him. Maybe he should have taken the glowy weapon instead of this stupid crystal…

“No,” he said to himself suddenly. “Enough of that. Any science sufficiently advanced is indistinguishable from magic. Ergo, any magic is just science I don’t understand yet.” He bounced the crystal in his hand and rose to go analyze it some more.

His computer pinged with a priority alert. Donnie frowned, sitting back down and clicking on what it had picked up. Emails normally didn’t get filtered to the top of his notification list, and especially not emails from _that_ account. Why had it-?

Oh.

OH.

Oh, dream-come-true.

As flattering as it was, this had to be a trap. No government agent simply _emailed_ a suspected hacker. Donnie checked it over for any spyware (snicker) but it was clean. Yeah, there was no way they’d send a _regular_ email, too. And he’d never even heard of the Bureau of Anomalistic Investigations! Did they seriously expect him to fall for this? Who did they think he was?

Although… Donnie _had_ been running a scrubbing protocol ever since the “Mutant Menace” winky face Stockboy disaster. He’d kept all their servers private, and even their cell phones were disconnected from mainstream cell services, utilizing his own pseudo-satellites and towers. Plus, with the newly acquired Shadow Transmitter, he was able to reverse engineer it to determine how to protect all their systems from being hacked by _anyone_. And the email didn’t even address him by name.

Maybe this John Bishop was telling the truth. Maybe he really _was_ that good, and his tech actually did something useful and astounding. Oh, _god,_ how it felt good that someone finally wanted to pick his brain!

He sucked in a breath. “Keep it cool, Don, you know what happened the last time an adult praised your unparalleled genius.” The betrayal from Big Mama still stung. All this Bishop guy was probably after was a swift arrest. Well, Donnie could certainly help him with that.

“See, Shelldon, this is why we record everything.” Shelldon didn’t answer, as he was still charging. Donnie harrumphed. He’d need to upgrade the drone to version 14 sooner rather than later, just so he could actually help out with all the work on his plate like planned. Come to think of it, didn’t the kitchen still need cleaning?

The turtle navigated to his extensive archive and found the correct file for the incident in question. He ran the video chat between him and the Purple Dragons through his scrubber, then replayed it to make sure there was no mention of his name or location. As much as he loathed giving those fiends a chance to have _their_ brains picked by a government employee, they were the real hackers and he was happy to throw them under the bus. He cracked his knuckles.

_Dear Mr. Bishop,_

_It has come to my attention that I have been falsely accused of a federal crime, as flattering an accusation it may be. I hold no blame against you, good sir, for this was likely a path laid down for you to follow by the true culprits: The Purple Dragons. I have attached a recording of their confession below._

_Please, deal with them as you would any nefarious terrorist seeking to undermine this great nation with their blatant abuse of sub-par cyber skills. Their names are Kendra, Jase, and Jeremy._

_Sincerely,_

_An Innocent Man_

Send.

* * *

Augie O’Neil sat in HQ’s cafeteria, sipping a coffee. It was sparse this early in the morning. Robyn wasn’t in yet, as Augie had elected to duck out on the awkward family breakfasts she insisted on cooking even though April was leaving for school earlier and earlier. It had been a tough week in that respect. It wasn’t often his wife let anxiety get the best of her, but it was really starting to show. He figured some space might allow the two to figure things out in a more private setting.

Plus, he liked the quiet. There was no intense training, no crazy monsters trying to kill them, no orders to follow. Occasionally Bishop’s second-in-command, Hun, would also be up this early and join him in coffee-sipping peace. They made an odd pair – Hun’s large figure with intimidating facial scar contrasted with his much smaller, bespectacled frame. It was even stranger whenever Augie was in full tactical gear before a mission and Hun was wearing one of his more colorful scarves.

But Hun wasn’t in this morning, so Augie just enjoyed the peace. The fluorescent lights softly hummed, an icebox from the kitchen kicked on, and the fire alarm went off.

The agent immediately jumped out of his seat and ran out of the cafeteria. A long hallway stretched beyond its doors, and he passed several windows to the labs beyond. Flames flickered in the corner of one such lab. A lone scientist was beating them with his coat.

He skirted inside the nearest door and yanked the fire extinguisher off the wall. Running up to orange-haired scientist, he blasted the flaming object with foam. To his surprise, the flames didn’t die.

“Oh, that won’t do any good, hold this!” The man thrust his lab coat into his hands and took off running. Augie beat the flames back until he returned holding a large, gray orb. “Boss is gonna have my head for this,” he muttered. He activated the device and it rose from his hand, splitting into elongated sections. A low whistle emanated from the orb and a central oculus began to glow. Augie felt something strange wash over him in waves.

The roaring flames suddenly diminished and died. The oblong object that had been casting them fell to the floor, unscorched.

Augie handed the scientist back his coat. “That was interesting.” He nudged the object with his foot. “Some kind of mystic flashlight?”

“Some kind.” The orb sputtered, light blipping off, and dropped into the scientist’s hand. “We thought it was a utensil. But I guess it can spontaneously burst into flames, too.” He held out his hand. “Dr. Chaplin.”

“Augustus O’Neil,” he shook it. “I’ve heard of you, but I don’t think we’ve formally met.”

“Likewise. You’re in charge of Eurydice now, right?”

“More or less.” He adjusted his glasses and peered at the orb. It looked like one of the objects he and Robyn had transferred out of that abandoned store on their first night back. It also looked spent. After years of handling mystical artifacts, he had developed a bit of an eye for magic. Despite that, he had trouble telling if this was mystic or tech. It didn’t resemble any machines that he knew of. Nothing glowed on the orb and the outer shells hadn’t retracted. It had emitted a pulse and then died. “What’s that?”

“Ah!” Chaplin held up the orb and rotated it. “It is an anti-mystic device! Two were retrieved by you and your colleague- [wife] – wife, last week, which is fantastic, but, oh boy, Bossman’s really not gonna like that I had to use one. Yokai engineering is so hard to find.”

“Yokai?” Augie asked, intrigued. “Like in Japanese mythology?”

Chaplin glanced at him, sweat suddenly beading his brow. “Uhh… yeah. These are… only made in Japan… by one company… and they’re super difficult to obtain. Expensive. Rare.”

“Then why not just use what you already have?” he pointed out. He frowned. “Or is it one charge only?”

“For these types, yeah. We really don’t know how they recharge, or if they _can_ recharge.”

“I hadn’t even heard of anti-mystic anything until now,” Augie commented. He picked up the orb. “Man, these would really make things a lot easier in the field.”

“We’re making progress every day,” Chaplin chattered. He smirked. “I bet you didn’t know this building was mystic-proof, yes?”

Augie did a double-take. He pointed questioningly at the utensil/torch.

“Well, everything except the labs, obviously, we need to study their properties somehow. But we’ve got massive amounts of wiring running all through the walls tied into our own power source to mimic the frequencies devices like these emit. It’s a huge power drain, and admittedly not as strong, yet, but hopefully you shouldn’t have to wait too long for more portable versions you can take with you on missions.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, maybe it’s actually good that we used this one up. Compare and contrast with the other one? Boss might like that. It’s probably safe now to crack open, too.”

Augie straightened and looked around the lab. No one else had arrived yet to assist with cracking open anything. “Do you want to wait on that? It’s a little early for any other accidents.”

“Hmm? Of course, of course,” he started to wander absently away, turning the orb around and around. “Oh while you’re here, we’ve got some new gear that should help your team on your mission tonight.”

“Mission? Tonight?” Augie frowned and followed him. He didn’t appreciate being out of the loop. Bishop could be a secretive bastard, but really, a project head should be told these kinds of things. “That’s news to me.”

“Is it? I thought Boss upped the timeline. Haven’t you heard?”

“Heard what?”

“There’s a mutant living in Central Park.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Okay guys! We’ve faced this foe before, so we know what to expect.” Raph paced before his brothers who all stood at attention in a horizontal line. Each of them wore a gas mask over their face. Raph’s hung loosely around his neck as he spoke. “Stinkbomb’s primary weapon is his smell. We’ve all smelt it: up close and personal. But we’re prepared for that!”

“I made sure to include nose-plugs in everybody’s masks,” Donnie said. One eyebrow was still smudged from his bandana’s time through the Forge and laundry. It gave him the appearance that he was always skeptically questioning something, which admittedly wasn’t far from the truth.

“Exactly! So now we’re unstoppable! All we gotta do is lure planty to an open area and Leo will portal him to the woods. Piece of cake!”

“Assuming Leo doesn’t portal the corpse-flower mutant into the middle of Times Square,” Donnie smirked.

“I’m sorry, would _you_ like to give it a try, dear brother?” Leo hmmmed. “My portaling skills are: the best. Out of anyone here,” he added.

“It’ll be great!” Raph affirmed. “Mad Dogs: Aho-!”

“Wait up, guys!”

All heads turned to see April running into the lair. She was halfway inside her hazmat suit, still struggling to put it on. As she got her arm through one of the sleeves, her boot caught on the other one and she wiped out, sliding the last few feet towards them in a pretzel.

“Ooh, you okay?” the turtles cringed in unison.

“Yup!” She bounced straight up onto her feet and stuck out her signature thumbs up. She pulled the cowl over her head and finished zipping up the suit. “Now let’s go pull some weeds!”

“Uh… what about your parents?” Mikey asked carefully.

“They have something important going on with work and will be staying there the next TWO NIGHTS,” April sang. She reached for cell phone to wave the texts in their faces, only to find that it was still in her pocket under the suit. Playing off the awkward motion, she settled her hand on her hip. “So let’s go! I’ve been waiting all WEEK to finally kick some butt!”

It didn’t take but a moment for the turtles to get on board. “ALRIGHT! MAD DOGS AHOY!”

* * *

The Turtle Tank pulled up quietly at the edge of Central Park. The five of them poured out of it and began trekking towards a cluster of trees.

“According to reports, he’s holed up somewhere in this grove,” Donnie said, tapping his wristband.

“Maybe we can catch him sleeping,” Mikey hoped, skipping along.

“Unfortunately, the working theory is that our plant-based mutant spends all day photosynthesizing, or ‘charging’ for the uneducated, and then uses that energy to become active at night.”

“So keep your eyes peeled,” Raph instructed.

The trees seemed to swallow them up from behind, and very quickly the Turtle Tank was out of sight. Even the constant noise of New York traffic faded the deeper they walked into the park. Raph didn’t think he’d ever been anywhere so quiet. It made him uneasy.

They crossed several walking trails and bike paths which crunched a little under their feet. The trees and shadows loomed around them, seemingly growing taller and darker. A breeze swirled around them, disturbing some leaves. Raph jumped as an owl hooted. His heartrate rose and he unconsciously huddled closer to his brothers and April. He’d seen enough horror movies to find every rustle and shadow suspect. Anything could be lurking in the shadows, unfamiliar, and waiting to pounce.

“Isn’t this nice?” Mikey commented, bouncing ahead. “Fresh air, quiet night sounds, no muggers hiding in the bushes…” He stopped beside a sidewalk and spread his arms. “We’ll be able to coax Planty out in no time!”

A gurgling roar underscored his words. Raphael and the others crouched on instinct, looking anxiously around for the source. The gurgling continued until it morphed into four, very distinct, rage-filled words that seemed to shake the earth.

“KEEP. OFF. THE. GRASS!”

A vine suddenly shot out of the darkness and plowed into Mikey. His little brother’s yell was lost to distance as he rocketed away through the trees.

“Mikey!” Raph barely had time to scream before another vine came surging out of the darkness at him. He ducked and rolled, hearing his brothers and April also dive out of the way. A strange sound of churning earth and thrashing whips drew his attention to the origin of the writhing foliage. Stinkbomb emerged between the trees, viny limbs flailing in anger.

“One blade for all, all for one blade!” he shrieked. “GREEN LIVES MATTER!”

Raph glanced down to where he had landed. “Uh-oh.”

He leapt away from the turf with a nervous cry as Stinkbomb reared back and spat a glob of corpse-flower juice at him. _SPLAT!_ His hands caught a tree limb overhead and he scrambled not to fall into the foul-smelling gunk below. He heard Leo calling for April and the familiar buzz of Donnie’s tech. Mikey was still too far for him to locate.

“Guys, the trees! The trees, guys!” he shouted.

“Get OFF of the sugar maples!” There was another retch and Raph swung to another limb, narrowly avoiding the gob. He gagged. Even through the gas mask, he could still smell traces of the foul odor. Another spitball almost tagged him as he jumped to another tree.

“And the sweetgum! And the tupelo!”

“Ahh, how are we supposed to fight this thing if we can’t even STAND anywhere?” Leo cried. Raph caught a glimpse of him and April running on a narrow sidewalk, trying to avoid spitballs without swerving into the grass.

“Because standing is for simpletons!” Donnie suddenly flew by him with his hover shell, wicked grin on his face and tech bo at the ready. “Breguet!” he shouted.

The tech bo morphed into an ice cannon and blasted Stinkbomb right in the carpels. The mutant screamed and twisted away from the others to spit after the flying turtle. Donnie cackled triumphantly.

Raph finally jumped to a flagpole and held on, using the respite to catch his breath and look around. From his height, he spotted a meadow not too far to the right. That would work perfectly! “Leo! Get to the glade, sword ready! Donnie! See if you can lure him over there! Mikey!” Where was Mikey, how come he still couldn’t find Mikey?

He spotted him emerging from the other side of the meadow and sighed with relief. His brother was running and jumping and waving his arms, but he looked alright. That vine had really launched him far.

“Mikey, watch out for the grass, he doesn’t like it when-” Raph broke off as he heard Donnie cry out. His heart leapt to his throat as his brother’s flying form faltered, a spitball gobbing up one of the rotors. Just before he hit the trees, he activated one of the tech bo’s rockets and launched sideways.

“Come get me, angiosperm!” he called, whizzing by Raph again.

He was off course from the meadow, however, and falling in a smooth arc. Stinkbomb followed after him, but still wasn’t close enough to the clearing. Raph braced to jump into the fray but April beat him to it.

“Yo, Stinky!” she called from the glade. She pointed at her shoes. “I’m standing in the _graaaass_.”

“You DARE!” Instead of a spitball, Stinkbomb lashed out with one of his vines. In horror, Raph watched as April tried to dodge but the vine glanced off her side and sent her careening down a trail. Foliage snapped and crackled like fireworks.

“April!” he and Leo both shouted. “Leo, hold position! He’s almost to you! I’ll get April!”

He leapt off the flagpole and curled into a ball. As soon as his shell hit the ground he tucked in, rolling faster in April’s general direction. In the back of his mind he worried that all his crashing was going to draw Stinkbomb away from the glade, but the forefront was predominantly occupied with reaching April as quickly as possible. His friend might be hurt.

Raph popped out of the roll when he heard a familiar sounding ‘ow’. April was tangled in a bush at the base of a tree. The sleeves of her hazmat suit were ripped open and her face shield was all scuffed up. Immediately he helped pull away the rest of the bush, grateful that the cushion had prevented her from wrapping around the trunk.

“April! Are you okay? Are you hurt?” She hissed as he grabbed her hands. Her palms and forearms were pretty scuffed up. She’d probably slid on them most of the way down the trail.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly. “Nothing some Neosporin and a few bandages can’t fix, right?”

“Pretty sure we have those in the tank. We’re tapping out, Leo should be about to-”

Fire erupted next to them with a _whoosh_ and Mikey burst onto the scene, dragged behind his mystic weapon. “BAIL! BAIL!”

“What?!” they cried.

“We got company! Leo, Donnie, RUN!”

Then Raph heard it: three car engines revving up the meadow. Mikey must have activated his kusari-fundo’s fire spirit to beat them here. But who was driving SUV’s in the middle of Central Park?

“Humans!” Leo shouted. From his position in the glade he was the closest to the newcomers. There was a clicking sound and Raph heard his brother gasp. “They have guns!”

“Leo, get out of there! Mikey, get Donnie – he landed somewhere thataway. Meet back at the Turtle Tank STAT.” Raphael scooped April up despite her protests and hauled shell into the grove.

Stinkbomb raged behind them, gurgling and launching spitballs. Raph told himself he heard the familiar sound of one of Leo’s portals, but truthfully, he was too far away now to tell. The branches whipped by him in a dark blur as he ran. April flinched and he shifted her in his arms, hoping to protect her from the foliage. His legs pumped harder and his breath came out in short pants. Humans. Stinkbomb. Run.

Soon enough they burst out of the grove and Raph made for the perimeter of the park. They had emerged only a few meters away from the Turtle Tank. Leo paced anxiously in front of it, gas mask off, having indeed portaled his way there (he’d accidentally portaled to an aquarium first, but no one needed to know that). He dropped his sword when he saw them.

“Raph! April, are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” she insisted. She squirmed in Raph’s arms. “And my legs work so you can put me down!”

He complied and popped the doors to the tank open, pulling off his own mask. “We need some bandages. Leo, do you know where the Neosporin is?”

“Got it right here.” Leo popped open his side pack and pulled out the familiar ointment. “Where are Donnie and Mikey?”

“They should be on their way back.” Raph looked nervously at the trees. “Did you catch a glimpse of those guys? You said they had guns.”

“Yeah, like, small cannons mounted on the back of the cars.” Leo dabbed a washcloth on April’s cuts and she sucked in a breath. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s good,” she said through gritted teeth. “Keep going.”

“Well, some guys in full-body suits popped up behind the cannons which is when I shouted. They were aimed upwards so I think they were targeting Stinkbomb. I didn’t see if they were using bullets or something else before I got out of there.”

“Maybe Mikey knows more,” Raph said.

As if summoned, his younger brothers appeared at the tree line. Raph finally relaxed as he saw them. One, two, three, four, five. Everyone was back and mostly uninjured. Mostly. He heard April hiss again as Leo started wrapping the bandages around her arms. Cringing, he rubbed his own arms empathetically.

“Ohmigosh, are you okay?” Mikey and Donnie rushed up to her as soon as they were close.

“It takes more than some sidewalk-rash to keep this girl down,” April smiled weakly, brandishing a mummy-wrapped forearm. “You two?”

Donnie sighed. He had twigs and leaves sticking out from all sort of places and his rotors were still extended from his battle shell. “Bad crash landing, _but_ nothing that can’t be fixed. I do need to wash this off, though.” He walked by with the spitball still glued to one rotor. Leo pinched his nose as he passed. “Whew, that’s the second time this week you’ve smelled worse than sewer laundry, bro. We’re NOT riding in the tank with that!”

Mikey pulled off his gas mask as Donnie walked, grumbling, around the back of the tank. “So, did our plan work?”

“Almost,” Raph said. “Mikey, who were those guys? Where did they come from?”

“I don’t know.” His brother danced nervously. “I landed near the edge of the park and overheard some kind of briefing. They were talking about a mutant and how to bring it in. When I saw the cars I knew I had to warn you.”

“Any uniforms? Badges?”

Mikey shook his head. “These guys were decked out head to toe in gear: tinted face plates, full-body covering, you name it. It was like a future version of April’s suit.” He looked mournfully at the shredded remains of it pooled around her feet. “I can sew that up for you if you like,” he offered.

“Thanks, Mikey. I’d rather not have to explain this to my parents.”

Raph frowned. “Did you catch how or why they were bringing in this mutant?”

“Probably for the same reasons we were,” Leo said when the youngest shook his head. “The dude’s gone cuckoo. You can’t have that in the city’s biggest park.”

“Do you think they’re gonna bring him to the woods, too?” Mikey asked.

Raph thought back to the junkyard and Repo’s cat. But Repo had said it was two guys in suits, not a team in full body armor that took Mrs. Nubbins. “I don’t know, Mikey, but I don’t like it. We need to investigate this further.” He looked at April and his tired brothers. “Let’s go home.”

“What about Stinkbomb? We kind of know how to handle him more than the humans.”

Raph wavered. He wanted a successful mission, which meant he wanted Stinkbomb transported safely to the woods, but faceless humans shooting guns gave him the willies. The prickling feeling of the unfamiliar from his nightmares danced on the back of his neck.

No: a successful mission meant getting his family home safely.

“We gave it our best,” he answered Leo. “It’s their fight, now.”

* * *

Robyn jumped as a vine took out the entire car. She landed in a roll, hands still gripping the modified tranq gun Chaplin’s team had graced them with. Thankfully, it had detached easily from the top of the car. “Take that!” she yelled, pumping darts at the writhing vegetation.

It was a mild herbicide, meant to slow down and paralyze the mutant. Conventional sedatives wouldn’t work on a plant-hybrid such as this, so Chaplin’s team had been hard at work altering the formula. The only problem was getting the wriggling thing to hold still long enough to get in a good shot.

How was something so big so easy to miss?

There was a splattering sound behind her and she turned in time to see one of the new recruits take a spitball full in the torso. They lay gasping for a moment, struggling to rip their helmet off. In a flash her husband was next to them, keeping the facemask on and turning the recruit to their side.

That was good. The stuff stank to high heaven even through the helmet’s custom filters. She did _not_ want to know what it smelled like without it.

The mutant screamed again at them, nonsensical words about crushing life under their heels. Harold, as he had been known before his mutation, had really gone off his rocker, although judging from his profile Robyn suspected he had already been well on his way there. She ducked as another volley of spitballs was aimed at them and crouched behind one of the ruined cars.

She knew these recruits were too green! Throwing them into the fire was a bad idea, but _clearly_ this whole situation couldn’t wait until they were ready. The mutant had terrorized people long enough. The team cringed as vines thrashed at them again. She cocked her dart gun. It was time to wrap this up.

Robyn stood as the vines came around again, sweeping just a few feet above the meadow. She jumped, not high enough to avoid the hit, but enough to catch it. It hit her in the gut and she grunted as the wind was knocked out of her, scrambling to hold onto her gun.

“Rockiiiin Robyn,” she gritted her teeth. She wrapped her legs and arm around the vine as they sailed across the meadow and used her other hand to pump it full of darts. In seconds, the vine numbly crashed to the ground. As soon as it did she was up, running on top of it towards the source.

“Got you now!” she crowed, taking aim as she neared the trunk of the mutant. It writhed around her and reared back to fire another spitball.

Robyn fired first. A volley of darts pierced its core.

The mutant cried out and hurled a long stream of gross fluid high into the air. Robyn ducked and rolled as everyone else dove for cover. Anyone unlucky enough to be caught out in the open as the putrid rain fell curled into a ball much like she did, with the unsuccessful hope that not as much would land on them. She tried to breathe evenly through her mask and kept her face close to the ground. She closed her eyes. Any moment now the darts would kick in, any moment this ‘rain shower’ would cease…

She heard a rumble, opened her eyes, and saw a shadow looming bigger.

The mutant was falling _forward_.

Scrambling to her feet, she legged it. The mutant was so _tall_ and so wobbly that it wasn’t falling in a straight line – she could only guess where Harold was landing.

In a desperate bid to outmaneuver the collapsing giant, Robyn threw herself to the right. She launched over another vine and rolled sideways, trying to keep up her momentum.

The trunk smashed into the ground right next to her, and Harold finally stopped moving.

Another six inches and she would have lost her leg under that bulk. Another two feet and she would have lost everything.

Shakily, Robyn got up. Her earlier triumph had vanished. She hadn’t had a call that close in a while. She thought she was past near-miss encounters. It… it didn’t feel real.

The mission wasn’t over, however, and wouldn’t wait for her to sort out her feelings. She stubbornly squared her shoulders and walked up to Harold’s flowery head. He was breathing, and some vines twitched feebly, but otherwise he was out. Robyn exhaled, relieved, and wearily looked around for her team.

Only Augie was standing, quickly going from recruit to recruit. Everyone else was on their knees, tearing off their helmets, and hurling. Between the ‘rain’ and their vomit the entire meadow was a veritable biohazard. Their poor stomachs.

“Well, it is their first mission.” Perhaps now that they knew what they were up against in person they would do better in training. This was certainly no joke. Once glance at the trunk induced another cold shudder. She tapped an icon on the side of her helmet. “Hey Boss? Mutant’s down, but we’re gonna need help with the cleanup…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next two weeks are gonna be crazy for me as I switch shifts and we head into tech week for a play I'm in, so I won't be able to update or work on this fic during that time. Wanted to get this chapter out just before all that kicked off, though. I hope you guys like it, and I deeply appreciate everyone who's been reviewing (I love you all so much!)


	7. Chapter 7

He hated every minute walking up to that site.

No, he hated every _second_ walking up to the scene of the mutant’s takedown. He hated every step his boots had to take across the churned-up grass. He hated the fact that the battle had taken place so deep in the middle of the park that there was just farther to travel. He hated that this particular mutant was not only so large but so _long_ that it seemed to extend on forever, that from the moment he passed the tip of the first viny limb he had to _keep walking_ alongside the extensive monstrosity as it wound around the forsaken meadow, twisting more of itself around every bench and mound until it all came together in a sodden, stalky _mess-_

“Agent Bishop.”

Robyn O’Neil greeted him tiredly, but formally. He blinked out of his thoughts for a moment. “O’Neil,” he returned tightly.

“The herbicide seems to be holding, and we managed to get some less green-faced recruits to hold position around the head in case of any-” she continued to speak to him, likely giving a rundown of the current situation. Hun was directing the clean-up crews behind them to take care of the messy field. It was kinder, keeping him farther from the scene, though Bishop himself would have also preferred to be elsewhere. Robyn prattled on as he pushed his glasses further up his nose, steeling himself for the real reason he had forced himself to walk all the way over to where they were now. Compartmentalize. Push it down, down.

“Your diligence is as excellent as ever,” he said evenly. He ignored how she perked up at the praise. “Please oversee the binding and transport of the mutant.” It was abrupt, but he didn’t want to use anymore words than necessary. His jaw was clenched and close to cracking, but outwardly his face was set like stone.

“Yes, sir!” Mercifully, she left him to do as told. She was a good agent in that way. Bishop turned and focused on the flowery head of the mutant. It was easier to look at, big and round, and his tinted glasses detected nothing unusual. In some ways that was a relief, and in others it was simply more infuriating. He forced his head to turn and look over the long, sinewy vines that stretched away from the creature in every direction, tangling everything in their path, ensnaring cars and benches and people-

The glasses detected something overhead. He looked away from the living vegetation and squinted. Through the lenses, the faint trail of mystic energy hung in the sky. It proceeded in a straight line; looking back across the glade he could pinpoint its origin. It arced over the fallen mutant, never once touching it, and disappeared in the grove beyond.

Bishop moved to trace it but noticed something else. There was a brighter spot of mystic energy to his left. He walked closer before realizing he would have to jump, or climb, over another vine to reach it. He ground his teeth. He hated this mutant. Why couldn’t the strike team have better fortitude, or stomachs? He didn’t need to be here, except yes, he did so he could determine that this was, in fact, a mutant and not a Yokai in (poor) disguise. At this point he was wishing that this was a Yokai after all, because he was definitely going to make some progress on Achilles after this, and nothing would hold him back after what he had to deal with-

Within a couple steps he jumped and sailed smoothly over the vine.

The bright spot shimmered on the ground next to shed body suits and weapons from ill recruits. It was fading, that much was clear. It was perfectly circular and did not touch either the mutant or the streak in the sky. The presence of both remnants was intriguing; the mutant was not a Yokai, and yet mystic energy had been used in this vicinity.

Someone else had been here. Perhaps multiple someones. They might even still be here, watching from somewhere in the grove-

The vine he had jumped over twitched.

Bishop spun and a dagger embedded itself in its side. The vine undulated in a way that made his skin crawl. The injury seemed to give it life because it just writhed more, rising off of the ground.

Cursing, he flipped backwards and snatched a discarded dart gun lying next to the spot. As he sprang out of the flip, he brought it up in one smooth motion and unloaded it into the possessed vegetation. It curled and flopped, coiling and unfurling like a dying snake. His breath shook with rage and his fingertips itched for the grip of a machete he could use to just _hack_ the thing to pieces-

“You okay, Boss?”

It was the other O’Neil, Augustus, who asked him. He stood, concerned, only a few meters away. Bishop took off his glasses and pressed his hand to his eyes. “Yes.” He tossed away the dart gun and looked around, but without his lenses the glowing energy had disappeared. Forget the grove, he’d seen enough. “Tell the team to watch out for any muscle spasms.” He left before the medic could question him further.

Hun watched him with concerned, brown eyes as Bishop arrived back at the cars. As Robyn and the transport crews deployed to secure the mutant, he signed _are you okay?_

“Fucking…” Bishop waved a flustered hand in the general direction of the monster. “They’re almost the same size.”

_Not color, though._

“No,” he exhaled. The two stood in silence for a moment, watching the people disappear beyond the wrecked cars to complete their tasks. The privacy was a blessing. Bishop took a few deep breaths, flexing his hands, and realized he had left the dagger embedded in the vine.

Someone else could get it.

Hun tapped his shoulder. _You have an appointment at eight o’clock._ The reminder was meant as a distraction and for a moment he just wanted to brush it off. It wasn’t anything important, he could reschedule, it wasn’t necessarily _necessary_ … but it might help steady him. As much as he wanted to head straight to Cocytus, nothing he did there would be productive right now. He could handle a little meeting, though. Bishop checked his watch. 6am. The faint glow at the horizon wasn’t just the city lights, then. If he slept in the car he could fit in a couple hours, but he didn’t feel much like sleeping. It was Hun’s next question.

“No, I’ll drive over there myself. Make sure the teams are done by dawn. Early morning joggers don’t need to see this… entire situation.” Hun nodded. Bishop took another moment to compose himself, then turned and looked at the numerous, nondescript, black SUVs behind them. He frowned.

“Do we have anything that looks less… pedophilic?”

* * *

He pulled into an apartment complex in a nondescript, black sedan.

The driving _had_ helped clear his mind some, and he felt more settled and prepared for the approaching meeting. This side project would probably help him regain the rest of his focus by the time he did return to the base.

The absurd luck that such a meeting was taking place at all also helped distract him from the godforsaken mutant. The fact that the enigmatic Bootyyyshaker9000 had actually _replied_ to his gamble of an email was staggering, but that he had included a video leading him directly to the hackers he sought?

It was obviously too good to be true.

For one, the so-called ‘Purple Dragons’ were all _minors_. Bishop could have stood not knowing that Project Maria had been taken down by a bunch of _kids_. It was just salt in the wound, and at first he believed the video was fake. For one, it was clearly altered. Every time the teenagers addressed the user on screen, their voices were muted and mouths blurred. The sound was also missing from moments where Bishop assumed the emailer was talking back to them. It could be that in claiming to have been framed, Bootyyyshaker9000 was actually framing _them_.

However… the video was smooth. Despite the blurs and sound drops, there were no edit points that Bishop could detect. The concealment of identity fit with his profile of a hacker who had deliberately erased themselves from existence, since the Cherubim still hadn’t been able to find anything new. There was also clearly a feud between the two, and if the emailing ghost _had_ been tricked by them it was possible that he wouldn’t pass up the chance for revenge. Digging into the teenagers’ records had also revealed something startling: they had all been convicted of a crime spree involving hacking into a major tech corporation. They were good for their age, and still on house arrest because of it.

Or at least, that’s what conventional authorities thought. The Cherubim told him otherwise.

So against all odds, here he was parked at the household of two sixteen-year-olds. Kendra and Jase Gunabi-Byrd had been notified of his arrival, and their right for their parents to sit in on the… interview.

Kendra had waived that right.

“So,” she smirked as Bishop closed the door to the family’s study. “After six months, you finally track us down.”

“The government has never been known for its speed,” he replied smoothly, ignoring the dig. He sat down across the desk and neatly folded his hands. “I am impressed that the three of you were able to pull something like this off – not many were even aware that the project existed. Your proclivity towards hacking could be better redirected.”

Kendra rolled her eyes. “Listen, Bishop, was it? You can drop the recruitment speech; I’m not signing my life over to the feds. And if you want to know how we did it, then you’re just going to have to keep guessing.”

He almost smiled. “Or I could just ask your brother.”

“He’s not my brother!” A muffled “what?” squawked through the door. They both glared at it for a moment until they heard meek footsteps shuffling away.

“My intel tells me it was _his_ idea to hack the mech and tie it into a video game.” Bishop leaned forward, resting nonchalantly on his elbows. “It all seems rather extreme for a petty rivalry.”

“Petty,” Kendra said flatly. She pointed at her ankle monitor. “You call this petty?”

“We both know that’s not stopping any of you from disabling them and slipping out.” Bishop didn’t blink. “How are the drone races?”

She scowled and crossed her arms, doing her best to look unimpressed with his information. Bishop merely waited her out. The teen flipped her purple hair and then narrowed her eyes at him.

“For all that you know, there’s clearly something you’re missing, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. So what is it?”

“You’ve already pieced some of it together. I _do_ also want to know how the mech was destroyed… though, something tells me you’re not too happy about that part, either.” Kendra glowered at him. “I can also take care of _that_ ” -he nodded towards the ankle monitor- “little problem for you.” He hardened his tone, “or I can make it permanent.”

He watched the gears turn in her head, weighing her options. Bluntness seemed to do the trick with rebellious teens, and while he wasn’t above unkept promises and threats, he knew a balance of both should work best. Tease the benefits, be clear about the consequences, encourage cooperation, get what he wanted. She was a smart kid, surely she would see that-

“How did you know it was Jase’s idea?”

Bishop carefully stilled his composure, but flexed one hand in a slow, smooth motion. “I have my sources.”

“Funny, so do I.” She leaned forward with a calculating gleam in her eye. “We cover our tracks well, and there’s only one instance I can think of where that little piece of the puzzle may have slipped out. Do you know who your anonymous source is?”

“Of course,” he replied.

“Who, then?”

“That’s classified.”

“Not if we both already know who they are. Your ‘intel’ already told you about our rivalry.”

Bishop took a deep breath, giving her all the tells she was looking for. “He goes by Bootyyyshaker9000.”

Kendra grinned triumphantly. “So you _don’t_ know.” She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “I can tell you, for a price.”

“I don’t need you to; we have already been in touch.”

“Yeah-huh.” She did not look impressed. “There’s a lot you’re missing, there, Suit. Drop all the convictions on my record and pardon the sentence and I’ll give you his name.”

Bishop pushed his tinted glasses up his nose. Inwardly, he smirked. Let her think she had the upper hand in the conversation. She was bold, but she was still a teenage girl, and had no idea how to handle _clout_.

“I would need more than just a name for that kind of agreement,” he said. “Particularly for the ones who broke my mech. It doesn’t sound worth it to me.”

“We weren’t the ones who broke it. Don’t you want to find out who really destroyed your robot? Who fried a multi-billion-dollar prototype? If your intel hasn’t been able to tell you by now, then you need mine.”

“Why should I believe you are not going to mislead me? I’ll need to verify your information first.”

“A sample?” She raised an eyebrow, mulling it over. “Alright… the freak is friends with April O’Neil.”

O’Neil?

“Let your sources chew that one over, but you’ll come back to me for the rest.”

“And why is that?” He did his best to keep the smile off his face. She had no idea what she had just given him. He could hardly believe his luck.

“Because April will never talk about her best bud and I already know more about him than you do. There’s not many ways to get past his scrub, is there?”

“It is rather formidable.”

She huffed. “Tell me about it.” Straightening, she resumed her smug look. “So how about you verify that connection and we settle this deal?”

Bishop leaned back, amused. “I’m not so sure, Miss Gunabi. In fact, I’m beginning to think I’m talking with the wrong people. It sounds like this hacker has not only blocked you out with his scrub, as well, but managed to take down my mech _despite_ your programming. He’s beaten you,” his eyes flicked to the not-petty ankle monitor, “several times.”

Kendra’s eye twitched.

“I was under the impression that the team capable of hacking a BAI mech had to be the best who ever lived,” he continued. “But now I’m seeing that the person who can defeat _those_ individuals is better.”

“He’s not better!” she snapped. “He’s just- where are you going?”

Her face dropped from righteous boasting to confusion as he stood up. “We’re done here, Miss Gunabi. You’ve told me everything I need.” He enjoyed the look of rage on her face as she flew out of her chair.

“The hell I have! You still don’t know how we hacked your stupid robot – forget scrapping the record, just-”

“Oh, your _brother_ already told me how you did it,” he said. “We had a very informative conversation before you came out of your room.” Her face twisted as he put his hand on the door and paused. “Thank you, Kendra. You have been a tremendous help.”

She yelled at him some more as he stepped out, cursing at him. She could vent all she wanted; he had what he needed to explore this… _interesting_ development further. It was rare that a side project such as this circled back to his own people. But he was 90% sure the O’Neil’s’ kid was named April.

He passed the rest of the family and thanked them for their time. Jase raised his hand. “Don’t you want to talk to me?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Points to you if you know from where I pulled the Purple Dragons' last names! Reviews are deeply appreciated :)


	8. Chapter 8

The rotor still wouldn’t work.

After hosing it down, foaming it down, and hosing it down again, there was still some microscopic speck of corpse-flower juice somewhere in the system making it stick. Donnie sat in his lab with the hover shell strewn out before him, tinkering with a screwdriver.

_Whirrrrrr…kzzz…kz..kz..kzz._

Did the juice leave behind some kind of residue, like glue or other adhesive? He’d need to detach the funky rotor and go over it with a scraper if that was the case. Except he’d already done that. His tired brain was going in circles. He’d been up all night trying to make it work smoothly again.

_Whirrrrrr…kzzz…kz..kz..kzz._

He stifled a yawn and his hand groped for a coffee mug. It was cold, but he downed it anyway. He really didn’t want to replace the rotor with a new one. That would mean chipping into the one brick of titanium he had left, which meant another 6 hours of work alone on getting enough flakes to coat the blades with a thin layer of armor. Taking care of some plant-juice _shouldn’t_ require anything that extreme. Maybe he could disassemble it and soak the parts in bleach and other sterilizing liquids. Or maybe there was a way to just _burn it off_.

As he was contemplating the withstanding temperatures of titanium alloys versus flowery biohazards, he didn’t notice the soft footsteps entering his lab. “Hey, Donnie?”

He jumped at the noise and dropped his screwdriver, flailing into a ninja-ready pose for a moment. “Oh, what’s up April?”

Her hazmat suit was folded and tucked neatly under her arm. Without her regular jacket to cover them up, the bandages from the fight stuck out brightly. It was always nerve-wracking to see bandages on any of them, but they seemed to stick around longer whenever it was April that was hurt. When they all arrived home the night before they had insisted that she stay over. Leo’s room was the quietest, ever since Donnie sound-proofed it following his first Lair Games victory, and his brother volunteered to bunk with Raph. They all said goodnight, Donnie retreated to his lab, and now he didn’t even know what time it was.

She rubbed her eyes with her free hand. “No one else is up yet, so I was wondering if you could give me a ride?” She stretched and pushed her glasses back into place.

Donnie’s shoulders slumped as he looked back at the hover shell. “Unfortunately, that beefed-up rotor is still misbehaving; it won’t be able to give one turtle a ride much less a turtle plus one human.” He kicked the screwdriver towards the table and glared at it.

“Donnie.”

He looked at her. She had on her rethink-that-don’t-make-me-explain-it-you face. What was he missing?

She stared at him.

“OH, you mean in the Turtle Tank!”

“Have you been up all night?” She fell into step beside him as he walked over to the wall displaying his rebuilt battle shells.

“April, I have two modes: sleep is for the weak and sleep for a week. It does not take a genius such as myself to figure out which of the two is currently in progress.” He selected one of the jet packs – it was a little lighter, and should be suitable for just a quick drive. He relaxed as he felt the comfortable, steely, weight settle on his shell and hiss into place.

“Well, I guess thank insomnia that you’re up, then.” She picked at her bandages as they headed down to the garage. The lair was quiet save for Splinter’s snores drifting out of his room. Donnie glanced at his brothers’ doorways as they passed them, then looked curiously at April.

“Hey, are you doing okay?”

“What? I’m fine!” Her voice echoed for a moment and she cringed. They paused to ensure their stealth mission remained undetected. Splinter’s snores continued and no one emerged from their rooms.

“I know that,” Donnie said, opening the garage. “But you don’t normally leave without telling everyone good-bye.”

April slumped and rubbed her arms. “Yeah. Does that make me a bad person? I left a note on the fridge but I just want to… veg out in the apartment, y’know?”

He did know. He knew April was the worst patient out of all them (including Leo) and hated getting hurt. For someone who could bounce back from anything, wounds were an incredible annoyance. Especially when they led to another annoying symptom: mother-henning from well-meaning family and friends. He understood the need to retreat and heal privately, to escape the embarrassment that came with injury. Donnie rested a hand on his battle shell.

He also knew the value of not bringing it up. “Totally. Where’s your bike?”

* * *

They made most of the drive in silence, staring zoned-out through the windshield as they battled the dredges of sleep and early-morning New York traffic. Clouds scuttled low overhead, shedding a few drops and promising more. Donnie thought about putting the tank on autopilot, but it had trouble working correctly on slicker roads. Maybe if he updated the sensors to keep track of the type of pavement-

“It’s hard to keep up with you guys sometimes.”

He blinked and looked at April. She still picked at her bandages, but also the hazmat suit. Mikey’s sewing peeked out from one of the folds. Hmm, if she was talking about what he thought she was talking about, then maybe he could add a layer of Kevlar to her suit, and jacket too, probably-

“I mean, I love the crazy fights and situations we get into, but I’ve also seen you guys take some really big hits and still walk away.” She balled her hand into a fist. “This sucks.”

“Does it itch?”

“Of course it itches!” she snapped, then groaned. “Sorry, Dee, I’m just tired and itchy.”

“No probles.” Definitely adding the Kevlar, then. Now, how to get April to relinquish her beloved jacket?

“Do you ever think-” she stopped, uncharacteristically abrupt. “Nevermind.”

“April, I _always_ think. Now, what are we thinking about?”

“Well…” What was with the hesitating? That was so weird for her. “When we were younger I used to want a shell like you guys, that I could pop in and out of and crash-land on. I haven’t thought like that in years, but, our fights have been getting more intense… so I’ve been wondering: what about mystic armor?”

Donnie gripped the steering wheel tightly. “What about it?”

“Well, that would be totally rad, right? And I don’t mean like Shredder’s armor, _obviously_ , but I dropped _my_ mystic weapon back in Draxum’s lab. We know this kind of stuff exists, so I wonder if maybe I should look into it.”

“No need,” he dismissed. “ _We_ don’t need any mystic mojo. And is it really so ‘mystic’? Would you like me to make you a battle shell?”

April chuckled. “I’m good Donnie, it’s just something that crossed my mind.”

He gripped the wheel harder and remained silent, the swirling thoughts in his head unable to make their way out.

* * *

“ _Mystic armor,_ glowy forcefield with diamond-linked chainmail…” He stomped back into his lab. “What is she _thinking?_ ” He picked up the screwdriver and plopped down before his battle shell. “Take hits, hit harder…”

_Whirrrrrrrrrrr…kzzz…kz..kz..kzz._

“Ohhhh, for THE LOVE OF-” He spun away from infernal rotor and pressed his palms to his forehead.

_April_ wasn’t supposed to voice his own thoughts! He handled the overthinking while she took care of the overconfidence. That was their thing! Not… whatever that conversation was. Besides, what could mystic armor do that he couldn’t already?

_Not break down,_ whispered a voice. _No scratches, no tears, no repairs, no maintenance…_ But he couldn’t trust it! He knew the durability, melting point, compressive strength, malleability, and chemical makeup of every alloy in his lab. What could mystic energy guarantee?

_Magic… power… safety…_

It was just glowiness. Like he was going to let some fancy _light_ protect him!

_Raph caught Leo with that light. It even held Shredder back… for a moment._

“Shut up,” he growled.

_Consider it…_

What was there to consider? He’d already studied his crystal a billion times! There was no point borrowing one of his brother’s weapons for yet another test. He needed to fix the rotor! He needed to upgrade his tech! Not… not…

His computer pinged.

Donnie dragged his hands away from his face and looked curiously at it. It was a priority alert… for another email.

He glanced back at his sticky battle shell. He definitely needed a distraction from his project and the thoughts in this head. A second was all it took to confirm that it was a message sent from the same John Bishop. Perhaps it was to thank him for turning in the Purple Dragons. Seeing those punks put in kid genius jail would be sure to lift him out of this mood.

Donnie sat down at his computer and opened it.

_Bootyyyshaker9000,_

_I have spoken with your rivals and there is much to be desired. For all their scheming and brilliance, they still left themselves vulnerable, vulnerable enough that you were able to outsmart them._

_It is clear that you are at least a highly skilled coder and perhaps engineer. I was surprised to learn that while you did not hack into our project, you still managed to destroy it. As the BAI rebuilds the mech, we would appreciate your input in how to best defend it against similar threats. I understand if you still have reservations about us, but I assure you the offer is genuine. I would rather the BAI work with someone capable of your achievements than against them. If time is a factor in your considerations, know that I am a patient man. The offer will not expire._

_While I don’t know what thoughts you have in mind for your future, I hope you will consider one with us. The alternatives may pale in comparison._

_Signed_

_John Bishop_

_P.S. Additionally, is there a name or title you would prefer other than this username?_

Donnie stared. He reread the email.

This… couldn’t be real. Even ignoring the vague, potential threat at the end there was no way this was actual recruitment. It was a ploy. It was a scam. It was… he clicked on the link to a website attached to the email that his computer deemed clean of viruses.

Totally legit.

The Bureau of Anomalistic Investigations was a real organization. It had been around for twenty years! And John Bishop was actually the head. Why was the head of a government agency emailing him?

Donnie explored further, and to him the website seemed pretty bare. There were a lot of links to job opportunities and positions that needed filling, but not much on what the BAI actually _did_. There was no mention of any mech or technical projects, but then again, he _had_ destroyed their prototype quite epically. There were a couple other projects found under the ‘Careers’ page. He clicked on one called _Project Bronze_.

_There are some things in this world that appear as mysterious forces, enticing New Age gurus and pagan practitioners to attest to their mystical qualities. However mysterious, the BAI has committed a team to investigating unusual phenomena through rigorous scientific research and methodology. Much like how the mysteries of magnetism, electricity, and gravity were eventually cracked, so too does Project Bronze seek to understand the stranger energies influencing our world._

“Holy Faraday, they’re studying _mystic energy_ ,” he whispered.

How… how much did they know? What kind of tests had they conducted? Did they know about the Hidden City? What objects were they using to study? Did they have samples of raw mystic energy? Had they published peer-reviewed papers? What had they discovered? What did they know? What did they know?

Donnie tried to choke down his hopeful, pounding, heart. Would they even let a mutant like him join their research team? Wouldn’t they just – wait a minute.

He reread the email, then smacked himself in the face.

He was so stupid! Bishop talked with the Purple Dragons! Why did he just offer them up on a silver platter like that? They could have told him anything! And everything! And yet… they didn’t?

He double-checked. Bishop still didn’t know his name, even though the Purple Dragons did. There was also no indication that the agent was aware of his… unique condition. Wouldn’t the tech club have at least mentioned that he was a giant turtle? Or, maybe they did… and maybe Bishop didn’t care.

It was the Bureau of Anomalistic Investigations… maybe he’d encountered weirder things.

Fingers trembling, Donnie ran a quick search of the man on whom his hopes were hung. He bit his lip as the results loaded.

There wasn’t much.

There was the statement on the BAI website that Donnie had already read confirming that he was the head and co-founder. But beyond that there were no social media accounts, no press releases, no news stories, and no pictures of the man. As a government official, he supposed it was possible that the nature of his position required immense security and privacy. The email account also wasn’t personal, but connected to the bureau as a whole. There wasn’t anything to go on other than Bishop’s own word.

But what a word it was!

A squeak escaped him as he navigated back to the email. He swallowed and flexed his fingers over the keyboard. _Take a moment, calm down, be cool, don’t look desperate, omg omg omgeeeeeee-_

_Dear Mr. Bishop,_

_I have looked into your organization and am especially fascinated with your Project Bronze. I, too, have been conducting my own studies of this ‘mystic energy’. As a scientist, I believe there is no such thing as magic, and I am extremely pleased to find like-minded individuals such as yourself also working to debunk it. I am sure your prestigious team has made more progress than my lonesome self, but perhaps we could exchange notes? I am sure we can forgive and forget a destroyed mech in the wake of breakthroughs made in this chimerical field._

_Sincerely,_

_Othello von Ryan_

He sent the email and then couldn’t contain himself any longer. He launched out of his chair with an excited shout and danced in a circle.

“Mystic armor, prepare to be reclassified as scientifically-explainable armor! Shelldon, play music, work station 11!”

Shelldon did not respond this early in the morning, but the other systems in his lab did. Donnie tapped his foot to the beats as he rummaged around for a blowtorch, reinvigorated. There was still work to be done while he waited for a reply, but it was work that would not defeat him.

He approached the sticky rotor and pulled his goggles over his eyes. “Now,” he grinned, igniting the blowtorch. “Let’s burn this sucker.”

Maniacal cackle!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now would be a good time for everyone to review the tags on this fic. I have selected them all for a reason and this chapter has a scene that gets a little heavy. Please proceed with caution.

Augie stepped back from the terminal and stretched. The last of the injuries and treatments were recorded in the medical logs. No one had been seriously hurt on the mission, but a surprise Week 1 fight coupled with copious puking had done a number on all the recruits. The post mission check-up only featured bruises and some strains, and he had distributed more anti-nausea pills than ever before. Beyond the physical symptoms, however, most everyone seemed to be holding up okay. All but two were game for more.

Robyn was one of them. He didn’t realize how close she’d been to the trunk when the mutant fell. She was shaken, but brave as always, cracking a joke and telling him not to worry. He did worry, but not about her life. They both understood that one day they might not come home from their job. Robyn was capable and normally pulled through anything. No, he worried about her anxiety. A priority shift towards safety was happening in his adrenaline-loving wife, and he wasn’t sure if it was for the better or not. She seemed more hesitant, more uncertain of herself. He said nothing, but resolved to keep an eye on its development.

The other person who didn’t seem okay was, surprisingly, Bishop. Augie had never seen their boss react so _violently_. He knew well and good that the man was a capable fighter, but he was also precise. Bishop rarely did things in excess and he certainly wasn’t one to pump a twitchy vine full of a dozen darts with such rage. If he hadn’t seen it himself Augie would have been tempted to dismiss it.

Bishop had been disturbed by something.

But unlike with Robyn, he had no simple way of checking in on the boss. Since he technically hadn’t been in the fight, he technically didn’t need a medical checkout. And, busy and secretive as ever, he had vanished for most of the day. Augie didn’t want to pry, but he also hated seeing anyone hurting. Maybe a friendly conversation was all he needed.

Perhaps he could enlist the help of a new friend.

He sat back down at the computer terminal in the medical center and searched the internal network for Dr. Chaplin. The man had been with the BAI longer than he had, and certainly had higher clearance to a lot of things. He pinged him a call and hoped he would pick up.

_“Chaplin here.”_

“Ah, Doctor,” he smiled. The scientist had answered with a video chat from his watch. Augie didn’t recognize whatever lab he was in; all he could see were some curving white walls. “I’m trying to track down our evanescent boss, have you seen him?”

_“Yeah, he’s here in Cocytus. Is there an emergency?”_

Augie chewed his lips. Damn, he didn’t have clearance to get into wherever Cocytus was. He’d heard the name on occasion and always assumed it was another office. Bumping into Bishop just became a little trickier.

“No, but he seemed a bit rattled by our mission today. Could you check on him for me? Just a quick call, or a mini conversation, and I think he’ll be alright. I’ve never seen him so worked up.”

Chaplin looked nervous on the screen. He glanced around his surroundings. _“I’m not sure if now is a good time…”_

“Then at least let me know if he’s back to his dour self. I think he’d hate me more if I dragged him in for a check-up.”

The scientist cringed. _“Don’t do that. It’s… um… I’ll talk to him. Chaplin out.”_

The screen winked off. Augie thought it was a little abrupt, but then again, he was coming to understand that Chaplin was a bit of a strange guy. He could handle a little social awkwardness, and it put his own mind to rest that the last ‘check’ was being made.

He stretched again and this time yawned. It had been a long night and was now well into the next day. Sleep was a good idea for everyone.

* * *

The Yokai was shivering, either from cold or from fear.

He hoped it was from fear. It was their turn, after all. He’d waited all morning.

He gazed impassively as Hun yanked it out of its cell, smirked as it whimpered when they clamped it to a metal table. He wheeled it himself down a bright corridor of Cocytus to the examination room.

The Yokai moaned when they entered.

Definitely fear. Pathetic.

“I would have thought that by now fear would have hardened you,” he commented, locking the wheels of the table in place. “But I see that Yokai constitution is much weaker than that of humans.”

The thing writhed, tossing its head weakly from side to side.

Hun passed him a laser-cutting tool from one of the shelves and stepped back. He turned it on, reveling as the Yokai’s face went from purple to white.

“Of course, I mean mental constitution,” he said casually, bringing the laser closer. “Not many others can actually survive _dissection_.”

The Yokai flinched as he dragged the laser across the corner of the metal table, slicing it clean off. It clattered to the floor with a gonging echo.

Bishop grinned. “It looks like my hand slipped.”

The Yokai looked like it was going to cry. Hun kicked the fallen piece out of the way. Bishop smiled at him, then pushed away the laser cutter.

“But enough of that. Today we’re going to try something _new_.”

He pulled out a syringe.

“Something that may finally break down the secret to your immortality… or just break you down.”

The Yokai’s lips were moving. He had to bend down to catch what it was saying. A short, breathy, whisper wheezed out of its soul. “Mercy.”

“Mercy?”

He looked at Hun. His scarred friend’s eyes flashed, steeled emotions flickering violently behind them. His own heart thudded like a stone against stone as he turned back to the monster on the table. He lowered his voice, barely able to contain his ice-cold rage.

“Your kind knows _nothing_ of mercy.”

He tightened the clamps, thinking he should have used rope so it would know how it _feels_ , and prepared to inject the compound into its neck when his watch buzzed. Annoyed, Bishop glanced at it to see who he needed to chew out for calling him at a time like this but stopped when he saw that it was Chaplin. Pursing his lips, he stepped away from the table and tapped his earpiece.

“This had better be good, Doctor.”

_“Oh! Uh, well sir, just an update on, uh, Jericho! Uh, everything’s… we’ve been able to open the spent AMD and so we’re pretty sure we have the right transmission frequency, but, signal strength is still a problem, and, uh, power output-”_

“If you have no breakthroughs to report, then do not waste my time.” His hand clenched around the syringe. “Bishop out.”

He tapped the earpiece harder than he needed to, making his eardrum protest. Chaplin was _touchingly_ absent-minded, but it was a problem at times. Times like now. He lifted his watch to block _all_ calls for the duration of the next experiment.

There was an email from Bootyyyshaker9000.

He couldn’t say what compelled him to open it then instead of saving it for later, but he did. His breath was sucked out of him. The world seemed to fall away for a moment as he reread it.

_The hacker, Othello von Ryan, was already studying mystic energy._

The fact that he called it ‘mystic energy’ alone meant he was telling the truth. Bishop had carefully made sure to avoid the term on all pages and correspondences so as not to attract the attention of dangerous Yokai living in the city. There was no sense in playing their own hand too soon. This Von Ryan had to have learned it through his own means.

_And he wanted to exchange notes._

Hun was giving him a puzzled look, curious as to the delay. He signed him a quick reassurance and strode back over to the Yokai, who tensed. Bishop towered over it for a moment, letting it squirm.

“It seems this is your lucky day,” he said. “Some _developments_ have come up that I must see to. Perhaps,” he lifted the syringe, “this will be improved before our next meeting.” He pocketed it.

The Yokai collapsed in relief, visibly shaking.

“Take it back to its cell,” he turned to Hun. “And fetch Chaplin.” He scrolled through the email again as his friend complied, making sure he wasn’t misreading anything.

A scientist, eh? He knew how to talk to scientists to get what he wanted. One simply had to feed their curiosity and need for recognition; some needed more of one than the other, and some needed a balance of both. He had considered that this Othello might be the same age as Miss Gunabi and O’Neil, but perhaps he was a professor at their school. In either case, he learned a little more. At the very least he now had a second alias to feed to the Cherubim.

This little side project had brought him nothing but fortune so far. He grinned. With a bit more luck, his projects were about to make some _large_ advances.

* * *

_He was in the round room._

_He was alone. There were doors everywhere with shadows behind them. How could he tell there were shadows when the doors were all closed? He was scared, and alone. He missed the dark sewers, he wanted his daddy and brothers. Or, wait, were they the shadows behind the doors? His heartrate quickened. Were they alone somewhere? Why couldn’t he find them? Why was he in this horrible room? He squeezed his eyes shut._

_There was a crash and a roar and when he opened them he saw a dinosaur fighting a necktie. Its eyes glowed and it looked right at him. He couldn’t move away as it charged towards him-_

“Ah!” Raph awoke with a start.

There was a shuffling sound and the bed dipped next to him. Someone looped an arm around his shoulders. He whirled and saw Leo sitting there, offering him a gentle smile. “You know where you are, buddy?”

Raph panted but looked around. He was in his room. There was Laceface, there was Ghostbear. There was a sleeping bag on the floor – that’s right, Leo stayed over. His brother was right here next to him. He took a steadier breath. He was not alone.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Thanks.”

“You want to talk about it?” Leo reached behind them and pulled Commissioner Graciepuffs off the shelf.

“Not much you don’t already know,” Raph said, accepting the teddy bear.

“Was it the round room again?”

“Yeah…” he looked down. Leo kept rubbing his arm as if he didn’t have anything else he needed to do. While that was probably true, Raph still appreciated the gesture. He hugged the commissioner closer.

“It’s just… parts of it have been getting a little more distinct, you know?”

“Which parts?” Leo handed him Dr. Huggenstein.

“Like the unfamiliar thing. Normally it’s just kind of like a shadow, all dark and spooky. But lately it’s been dressed up. Suit and tie. Mostly tie.”

Leo swung his feet, thumping them against the bed. “Suit and tie sounds less ‘unfamiliar’ than spooky shadows. Are there any other features?”

“Not really. There’s no face or skin color or anything.” He automatically took another teddy bear Leo held out to him and shivered. “It’s pretty creepy.”

“I’ll say. You’re dreaming of Slenderman fighting a dinosaur!” He passed Raph Mayor Cuddlecakes. He was holding four teddy bears, now. “That’s actually a movie I would pay to go see.”

“Yeah?” Raph smiled. “I guess that does sound pretty cool.”

“Right?” Five teddy bears. “Of course, they’d have to do it right, otherwise we get another Alien vs Predator fiasco.”

“I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“It was so dark you could barely see them fighting!” Leo rolled his eyes. “The color grading was abysmal.” Six teddy bears.

“Have you been watching critics on YouTube again?”

“My judgement is my own, thank you.”

Raph laughed. “That’s an understatement.” He stretched his back and heard it pop, relaxing as a little bit of the tension from his nightmare ebbed away. “Thanks, brother.”

“No problem,” Leo replied, stashing what would have been teddy bear #7 behind his back. “You want to get a late breakfast or skip straight to lunch?”

“Is it that late?”

“You slept in, my bro.” Leo hopped off the bed and also stretched. “I’m pretty sure even Dad’s up.”

“Well, then,” he set down his bundle of teddies and tapped his fingers together. “I guess I’ll get some lunch.”

The normal drips and clangs of the sewers echoed around the lair as they walked down to the kitchen. Raph jumped when he heard a rumble, then realized it was just some distant thunder from above. The drips increased in frequency – it must be raining outside.

Donnie’s ‘music’ drifted out of his lab, really blaring for this time of day. Noises from the arcade room indicated Mikey was up. Splinter’s usual commercials sang jauntily from the living room. Leo tapped on his phone next to him, texting someone. With all the familiar sounds of his family surrounding him Raph was able to relax a little more. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something missing, though…

“Where’s April?”

Leo sent his text and yawned, crossing to the fridge. He tapped a note tacked on it. “Went home earlier this morning.”

“Alone?”

“Pretty sure Donnie drove her, I heard the garage door open.” He pulled out some leftover pizza and rummaged through the cabinets for his teabags.

“Hmm…” Raph accepted some pizza and downed some milk to chase off the uncomfortable flutter in his stomach. He set the glass down with a _clank._ “If everyone’s up, then, we can start finding out who those humans were last night.”

“With no identifying markers or leads?” Leo raised an eyebrow.

Raph turned in the direction of the faint dubstep spilling into the lair. “Maybe some traffic cams picked up where the cars came from. Or went, if they managed to take down Stinkbomb.” He swallowed a pizza slice whole and dusted off his hands. “You get Mikey and I’ll ask if Donnie found anything.”

The ear-splitting noise his purple brother called music guided him up to the lab, and he was grateful to hear it, for once. It was something familiar, comforting, and promised a type of security Raph himself could not provide: answers.

Donnie knew everything, and if he didn’t he could certainly figure it out. He couldn’t count the number of times Donnie’s contingencies, or tech, or random knowledge got them out of tight scrapes. Nothing was totally ‘unfamiliar’ to the brainiac, which certainly reassured him now more than ever. They’d learn who these humans were in no time, and then he could relax. He picked up the pace and stepped around the curtain.

It was ten times louder inside, but Raph could still locate Donnie’s mad scientist laugh over the noise. He followed it to where his brother was dancing around a whirring battle shell that hovered over a table. “I’ve done it! I’ve done it! Another science point awarded to-”

“Donnie!” Raph shouted over everything. “We have work to do!”

Donnie tapped an icon on his wristband and the heavy techno-beats mercifully subsided. He flipped up his goggles revealing wild, bloodshot eyes. “Work? I have _done_ the work!” He spread his hands towards the battle shell. “It flies!”

“That’s awesome, brother, but we need to address what happened last night. I was wondering if there was a way we could hack into some security cameras in the area or anything that would give us a clue as to who those humans were?”

“Oh, I already know, they’re with the BAI.”

“The – what?” Raph blinked. That was quick.

“The Bureau of Anomalistic Investigations.” Donnie flounced to his computer and pulled up the website. “Tiny thing, but it looks like the government is _finally_ looking into a cure for all those affected by the oozesquitoes. That little team we saw last night must have been part of their newly launched _Project Eurydice_.” A dreamy look came over his face. “Fitting, really. As Orpheus braved the depths of the Underworld to reclaim Eurydice from her fate, so too is the BAI reclaiming the humanity of-”

“I get it,” Raph cut him off. He frowned. It was… all good news, but something still wasn’t sitting right with him. “Are they… how are they finding this cure? Are they asking for volunteers?”

“Any good trial requires a large sample size,” Donnie said. “But they’ve only just begun so I’m certain they’re still merely gathering data.”

“It’s just,” he furrowed his brow. “Repo was really upset about his cat.”

“Agh, we’ve been over this.” Donnie tossed his arms. “A gigantic, out-of-control, manty-cat is going to attract attention, and apparently did. Same with a gigantic, out-of-control, corpse-flower. They’ve got it handled! And it gives _us_ a bit of a break.”

“Maybe.” Why couldn’t he shake this bad feeling? Was it just leftovers from his nightmare? He shivered. “Are there any mutants you keep tabs on that we can check? Just to make sure they’re, you know, still there?”

Donnie crossed his arms and swiveled his chair towards him, narrowing his eyes. “Do I have the appearance of a stalker, to you, Raphael? Do I spend my days recording the steps of every ally and enemy who does not fall within the normal parameters for _homo sapiens_? For _shame_ how my own brother could think so little of me!”

“Donnie,” Raph warned.

His brother rolled his eyes. “It is called ‘social media’, brethren. I believe you are familiar with it.” He tapped on his wristband, and for a moment his eyes widened. His computer pinged at the same time and he quickly doused a notification before Raph could comment. “Okay! Todd’s Facebook page is still active, Bullhop is in Canada, DIGG is hosting a concert tomorrow night, and _no_ , none of them have mentioned anything about the government coming to cart them away. World’s fine and _yawn_ I need to get some sleep, how about we continue this later?” Donnie got up and pushed against him, but his feet only slipped over the floor as Raph didn’t budge.

“I can figure that much out, but what about Meatsweats? Or Hypno? What’s ah, what’s Ghostbear up to?” He tapped his fingers.

His brother gave up trying to push him and just leveled him a glare. “If I knew what our off-the-grid mutant villains were up to all the time, I would not act so surprised every time we ran into them. Now, if you please,” he gestured the door with a humble bow. “A turtle needs his beauty sleep.”

There was no arguing with Donnie when he was hyped up on sleep-deprived sass. Looking from the hovering battle shell to the BAI website it seemed he had been up all night. And, he _did_ get the answers he came for. Donnie had certainly delivered on the direct scoop this time. It wasn’t his fault that these answers just weren’t sitting right in his gut.

“Okay,” he relented, allowing himself to be pushed out of the lab. “Try to be up by dinner, though.”

“Yes, yes, of course, my appetite and I will both be there, now good day!” The curtain parted and Raph found himself out in the hall, arms full of Mikey and Leo who had just been on their way in.

“Bad time?”

* * *

Unbeknownst to Raphael, Donnie didn’t go right to sleep. He tapped the notification that had popped up during their conversation and grinned.

It was a reply.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, thank you everyone for the wonderful reviews and kudos! I'm so glad people find this interesting! It really warms my heart and I deeply appreciate it.
> 
> The beginning of this chapter is also a little heavy, even though I am immensely proud of it. I also doodled a cover art for this fic if you want to check it out on tumblr @danzinora-switch (nothing fancy! Just doodles!) Thank you all for reading, and enjoy!

_The shadows were long and twisting. The unnatural green-yellow light throbbed and pulsated, making the shadows dance in a phantasmagoric chain. When he watched only the shadows long enough, he could imagine they were demons dancing victoriously around their victims. “Penance! Penance!” they cackled gleefully. “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here!”_

_His hands curled around the stalky bars of his cage as he watched the shadows dance, doing anything to keep his eyes away from the horror below. A scream split the air and he flinched, trembling. The scream morphed into a mournful gurgle and he squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lip to hold back a whimper._

_A hand touched his fingers and he opened his eyes with a gasp. He met the soft brown eyes of the person in the cage next to him. They had to push their shoulder all the way against the vines in order for their arm to reach him. He grabbed that hand desperately, grateful for the human contact, the comforting touch._

_“It will be over soon,” his friendly giant whispered._

_But it wasn’t. The gurgling growl continued on for much longer than it had any right to. It was an inhuman roar/scream that he couldn’t block out. His giant friend squeezed his hand and it looked like he was praying. The dancing shadows grew and retracted, undulating in step with their hellish heartbeat. It was harder to focus on the hand in his own and the sickly, shadowy walls as the sound continued. Resistance etched away at him with every shaky breath. He peeked._

_It… was still breathing. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the ungodly shape in the trial cage below. It had too many bones and not enough fur to hide the skin, and fangs too large that they forced its mouth open, stuck in a lock-jawed moan. The monster writhed and rocked, trying to find a morsel of comfort in its miserable existence. The image seared into his eyes, his mind, his very soul._

_“For God’s sake, just end them!” he yelled, voice cracking. His friend squeezed his hand tighter, a warning, but he hadn’t even realized he had shouted. “It didn’t work, just put them out of their misery!”_

_Satan himself turned from his abomination and looked at him, yellow eyes boring into his own. He raised his arm, and suddenly his hand was wrenched from his friend’s. The cage around him turned inwards and attacked, pulling his arms and legs away from his fetal crouch and lifting him up. The coils tightened around him and he screamed._

“FUCK!”

Bishop awoke and embedded a knife in the wall. He had two more under the mattress and threw those as well, one of them shattering the mirror across from his bed. His breathing stayed ragged until the last shard fell to the floor. He pulled the chain to his bedside lamp so hard that it broke, but mercifully the light turned on.

He leaned forward and pressed his palms to his eyes. It had been a while since one that strong had graced him. It wasn’t often that nightmares could leave him raw, nowadays. He hated the feeling and gritted his teeth. His right calf shouted at him and thunder rumbled outside.

Deep breaths. Compartmentalize. Nerves went down to the bottom where they didn’t exist. Rage could linger just a little longer. He didn’t feel unbalanced, he _didn’t_. He wasn’t taken by surprise or caught off guard. He was in control. Think. This was just adrenaline. It would fade, and so would his shaking. Natural bodily reactions were to be expected, so one just had to be mindful of them. He began taking slower, deeper breaths.

Plan. The mirror would have to be repaired, and by someone he trusted not to ask questions. There was also little chance of returning to sleep by now and so the time would be better spent working. Cocytus called to him, yet the fading adrenaline brought on a different kind of shakiness, which would be better addressed first. A hot drink, a little bit of food, perhaps a moment with the Cherubim and then he could work on Project Achilles. Or Project Bronze, he mused. Von Ryan had responded to his and Chaplin’s emails for most of the day before unexpectedly going quiet in the evening. He could look into that, alternatively.

Act. He slipped off the bed, mindful of the glass on the floor, and crossed to the closet. His leg ached and cramped, but he fought through it. Familiar white dress shirts and black pants welcomed him as he opened the door and he slipped into routine. He tucked the shirt in and tightened the belt. Next came the boots: a sturdy, steel-toed pair thick enough to stop a blade. They were custom made to fit his feet without any annoying laces that could come loose in an operation. He rolled his pant legs down over them, giving them the appearance of innocent desk-job footwear. Rising, he selected a thin necktie and fastened it with a knot professional enough to look crisp and put-together, but loose enough that he could undo it in a second should anyone try to grab and choke him with it.

His black coat hung from a hook and he shrugged it on. It was heavier than it looked, lined with a thin layer of Kevlar that went all the way down to his boots. His dagger was now replaced with a machete, tucked just inside within easy reach. Standard watch and earpiece went on next, connecting him with the whole of the BAI network. He pulled his tinted glasses off their charger and pushed them onto his face, letting them take a moment to scan the room. No traces of mystic energy, which he knew, but it was still reassuring. He stepped back from the closet and regarded it.

After a moment’s contemplation, he reached inside a lockbox and pulled out a 9mm Glock. He strapped it on, letting the weight provide a cold, steely comfort.

He was John Bishop. Nothing got to him.

* * *

Robyn sat in the HQ cafeteria reading a book. Securing Harold in his new environment had taken up most of the day. It was the job of the scientists now to help return him to human form. Everyone on the team was staying in the barracks to sleep off the mission, and to remain close at hand to their specialized med center should any adverse mystic effects suddenly appear. Augie didn’t think there would be any, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. She had napped in the afternoon and, ever the night owl, couldn’t fall asleep now. Since Augie was such a light sleeper she’d retreated here so as not to disturb him. It was still storming outside; if she listened closely, she could hear the rain on the rooftop and occasional rumble of thunder. It would have sucked if their mission had been scheduled for tonight; there weren’t many upsides to fighting a monster in a downpour.

She chewed her lip. To be honest, it bothered her that they had had to fight the mutant at all. Sure, in the heat of the moment the adrenaline thrilled her as always, but she had hoped the promotion would have taken her and Augie _away_ from the fighting. They were coaches now, and coaches didn’t play. Her close call had almost… well. What they did was dangerous, and as much as she wanted to protect the world from threats, she also wanted to come home to her daughter… even if her daughter didn’t want her there.

April had been so cheery when they mentioned they would be gone for two nights. Robyn hadn’t missed how she was leaving earlier and earlier for school, taking breakfast there when she had never done that before. Homemade pancakes could only do so much, and Robyn had tried, _tried_ to relate, but still felt her slipping away.

Maybe things would be better tomorrow when they could go home. Robyn sighed. Maybe there was a way she could ask for another promotion, or a department transfer, to get away from dangerous lifestyle. A girl could dream.

She realized she had read a page of her book but had no idea what it said. Flipping back to the beginning, she noticed someone else enter the cafeteria. Her eyes widened in curiosity when she saw that it was none other than Bishop himself. He was dressed in his typical suit, which made her wonder if he wore it to bed. Or showered in it. The man never changed. She stifled a giggle as he crossed to the drink counter.

Shifting in her seat and propping up her book, she inconspicuously watched him. He was flexing his hands a lot, and leaning on his left leg. The storm must be irritating that wound of his. Maybe that was why he was up. A grin spread across her face when she realized he was making hot chocolate of all things. Augie was never going to believe this. Bossman, Agent King of Agents, drank cocoa. If only she had a secret camera…

“Is there something you need, O’Neil?”

Oh shoot, he was looking at her. Robyn put down her book and held up her hands in a ‘you caught me’ gesture. “Seems a late night for you, sir.”

“I suppose one could say that.” He took his cup of cocoa and walked over to her table. His limp was a bit more pronounced, but she knew better than to comment on it. He sat down a few seats away and drank in silence.

Robyn suddenly realized that while her wish for an opportunity of a less dangerous lifestyle had come true, she wasn’t sure how to bring it up. It was too soon to ask about promotions or transfers! Yet here was the perfect chance to talk to the boss one on one. What could she say? Should she say nothing?

“How is Augustus doing?”

She blinked. Bishop had just initiated small talk. Alright. That was new, but she was grateful the universe had answered her prayers. “He’s doing well. The recruits got to watch him eat three enchiladas right after the mutant wrap-up, so they’ve got some respect for his iron stomach, now.” She smiled at the memory. Most had still been too ill to even consider breakfast, but Augie had picked some up anyway. A couple recruits got sick all over again from the smell. She knew it tickled him pink.

“As they should. How is your daughter doing, April, wasn’t it?”

Wouldn’t she like to know? “She’s… good,” she answered. “School’s been keeping her busy, especially close to the end, here. Summer should be a little more relaxed.”

“I see,” he responded, sipping his cocoa. “What school was it she attended, again?”

“Eastman Early College High School,” Robyn stated proudly. “My girl is gonna graduate with her diploma AND her Associate’s degree!”

“EEC,” Bishop mused. “A friend of mine’s son goes there. Does April know anyone by the name of Othello von Ryan?”

“Not that she’s mentioned to me,” she said, still getting over the shock that Bishop had friends. Her boss opened his mouth to say something so she quickly added, “But I can certainly ask!”

“Wonderful. I would very much like to know if he is doing well.”

“Of course!” she chuckled. “Though I will admit it’s tough to be away from her.” _Here we go, this is your moment._ “I had kind of hoped that heading Project Eurydice would allow some time away from the field. I’m thankful for the opportunity to stay in New York, but it still worries me that I won’t come home to her one day.”

Bishop finished his cocoa and observed her for a moment. She held her breath, hoping not to overstep. “You care very much for you daughter,” he said.

“I do.”

“And would do anything to protect her.”

She shuddered as the Stadium Incident crossed her mind. “Anything.”

He nodded once to himself, not that she could discern what he was thinking. The man simply did not emote very well. She straightened her back as he pushed away from the table and stood. “Eurydice needs a little time for the fresh recruits to become more experienced, but I do have other projects on the table of a more… _stationary_ nature. I will keep you in mind for them.”

Her heart leaped and she stood up too, not knowing what else to do. “Thank you, sir!”

“Of course,” he waved, granting her a rare smile. “Tell April ‘hello’ for me, and do let me know about Othello.”

“Absolutely!” she snapped to a salute. When he exited the cafeteria, she sat slowly back down in her seat, almost disbelieving her luck. Maybe things would be alright after all.


	11. Chapter 11

Mikey tiptoed into Donnie’s lab early the next morning. He had a mission to complete and he couldn’t attend to it without a prop he might need. Get in quietly, get out quietly. His brother had been a veritable zombie at dinner, despite having claimed to have slept, and then was still glued to his computer, typing furiously, when Mikey had snuck in the night before and hung up his laundry, including the important prop.

He hoped that he wasn’t still up… too many all-nighters weren’t good, even for Donnie. While it may make his own pre-mission stealth mission easier, it did worry him. His brother had been off his mojo for a few days. Mikey doubted anyone else had noticed or understood what smudged eyebrows, long nights, or 3 full days in the Forge meant. Many evenings handing tools to his brother as the Official Assistant (a title he donned himself) while he worked on one project or another had lent him some insight into the genius’s habits. Many more nights sketching drawings from his corner of the lab afforded him a peek inside his brother’s moods. Donnie had been bothered by something for some time now.

He skirted around a table and his heart melted when he saw Donnie asleep in his chair, face first on the keyboard to his computer. A long trail of z’s still marched on in an open window. He must have crashed not long after Mikey had left. As quietly as he could, he tugged his apparel off the line and began folding. No music was playing that could cover up his movements, so he activated _ultra ninja stealth mode_.

Unfortunately, the tail of an apron caught the edge of a welding torch and pulled it off the shelf it was resting on. Mikey froze as his brother flailed awake, looking around fervently.

“Sorry, Dee,” he said sheepishly, gently replacing the tool. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Donnie rubbed his eyes and glanced back at his computer. Half the keyboard was imprinted on his face. After another bleary moment, his whole demeanor brightened. “No probles, Angelo, take your time!”

Mikey straightened. Cheery, early, attitudes were rare for Donnie, but it made hope blossom inside of him. “You’re in a good mood this morning!”

“Of course! What’s another day in paradise? The world is an oyster and her secrets mine to hold.” The sentence ended with the ambitious fire in his eyes their other brothers referred to as the onset of the Mad Scientist. To Mikey, it meant that Donnie had finally found the thing that re-instilled his excitement for invention and discovery. No more using smudgeable markers! No more glazed-eyes grunt work. His brother was off autopilot!

“I’m so glad,” he said earnestly. He then ‘innocently’ held up an orange sweater he was folding. “I was about to prepare another seminar!”

“What? Why?! That won’t be necessary!”

He laughed as Donnie physically recoiled at the thought of another session with _Dr. Feelings_. He wouldn’t be able to escape it forever, but for today Mikey would spare him the horror. He had another type of appointment planned.

In fact… he looked over to where Donnie had turned back to his computer, avidly deleting all the z’s his face had left. His plan depended on sneaking out before a certain hairy somebody could stop him, but maybe he would have better luck succeeding if he took someone else with him, someone that he could claim ‘supervised’ if caught. “Sooo…” he began nonchalantly, folding up his important prop: the dinosaur costume. “I’m gonna check on Baron Draxum this morning… wanna come?”

“Draxum?” Donnie groused, not turning away from whatever he was reading. “Why on Earth would I want anything to do with-” He broke off and seemed to do a double take, scooching closer to his computer.

“You know what, sure!” He twisted around in his chair and flashed a smile and a thumbs-up at him. “Um, just let me finish this up real quick and I’ll meet you down at the Turtle Tank. Sound good?”

It worked? Mikey jumped and clasped his hands. This was great! Unexpected, but great! Maybe in bits and pieces his brothers would come around to seeing what he saw in the baron, and then eventually Splinter himself. “Absolutely! Thanks, Dee, I’ll be right down!” He scooped up his laundry and scampered out of the lab, heart bursting with joy.

* * *

Donnie watched his brother leave, laundry trailing in his wake. When he was sure he was gone he swiveled back around and reread the email.

The correspondences with Bishop had brought a wellspring of new theories and ideas about mystic energy Donnie was itching to examine: the narrow circumstances in which it worked, the behavior of mystic objects under different conditions, the thought that perhaps mystic energy was a rare self-sustaining power source. The BAI had way more data than he did, and he absorbed what notes they provided him greedily.

_Mystic energy is very intuitive,_ one of the emails had said. _A lot of a mystic object’s properties seem to depend on the user._

_Yet the properties don’t vary enough from user to user for it to be wholly linked to them,_ Donnie had pointed out. _A mystic sword will always open portals, but the destination depends on who’s wielding it._

_Very insightful. Have you tested any theories regarding a conscious link?_

The best part was that Bishop actually listened to his ideas! It was truly a conversation between intellectuals, not a lecture where he had to explain how his tech worked for the umpteenth time. The agent understood whatever he was getting at the first time around. It was so refreshing! He couldn’t trade such a discussion for something as simple as sleep, and yet sleep had claimed him anyway. He had dreamt of energy and electricity and cellular biology.

But the last email Bishop had sent after Donnie fell asleep was on a slightly different topic. It asked if he had ever studied anti-mystic energy, or devices that seemed nullify mystic powers. Truthfully, he hadn’t thought such a thing existed until now. He would have said no, except for Mikey’s rather serendipitous invitation.

Not that he necessarily _liked_ his brother’s mission to rehabilitate a warlord, but perhaps the Baron would be a little more forthcoming.

* * *

“I was given to understand that humans considered this a day of _rest_.”

Mikey bounded into Draxum’s apartment, dinosaur costume tucked under his arm if needed. Donnie scrolled on his phone, trailing behind him. The Yokai was still in his robe and slippers and blearily glared at them for interrupting his Sunday morning.

“I’m so glad you’ve taken a liking to human customs!” Mikey pronounced. “Are there any in particular you would like to explore? Fun things you’ve heard of in the lunch line? If something fires up that ol’ curiosity of yours, Dr. Positive and Donnie are here to help! Right, Donnie?”

Donnie looked up from his phone. “Hm? Right.” He tucked it in his hoodie and looked around the apartment. It was still outrageously sparse, but a small table had been dragged to the window where the blinds were pulled up. An empty plate and a mug containing… something… gleamed in the sunlight. A vase with a tiny, purple vine perched daintily in the middle.

Mikey picked up the mug. “Is this - _whew! –_ were you trying to make coffee? Is that what these grounds are?”

Draxum’s eye twitched. “I wasn’t… _trying_ … to do anything.”

Mikey’s face softened. “Let me make you some coffee, it’ll freshen you right up.” He set down the costume and waltzed over to the small kitchen.

Draxum growled to himself and moved to collect his plate, pausing to look out the window. Donnie stuck his hands in his pockets and strolled closer. “Soo, Draxum, I’ve got a couple of questions if you don’t mind me asking.”

“I do mind,” he muttered. He cringed as the sound of Mikey’s “nuh-uh-uh!” rang from the kitchen. “But I suppose it depends on the questions,” he relented.

“Well, it should be right up your alley. Have you ever heard of anti-mystic energy?”

The Yokai frowned, holding his plate with both hands. “Not exactly in those terms. The police force of the Hidden City carries anti-mystic _devices_ , and likely so do a few bounty hunters and wealthy individuals. They are very hard to come by, and even harder to create.”

“Why is that?”

The baron considered. “I’m not sure how to put it into terms you will understand. Mystic energy works like a bridge between two things: the physical world we see and touch, and the conscious world we think and feel.”

“A bridge,” Donnie repeated. “Like that you can walk across.”

“Yes, but a one-way bridge.” Draxum frowned. “There’s an expression… mind over matter. Mystic energy is the conduit through which that becomes true. The mind, or intent, then dictates the matter.”

_That fits with the intuition Bishop’s already observed. Maybe there is something to this ‘conscious link’ idea, but, wait a second…_

“So mystic objects are mystic _not_ just because they’ve been imbued with mystic energy?”

“Correct, again, as far as objects go. These artifacts are fused with a particular _intent_ , which transforms them into ‘mystic’ items.”

_How does one fuse something as noncorporeal as an idea to an object?_ Conduit… _Wait, that’s where the raw mystic energy comes in, whatever form that takes_. Intuition… _but if that’s the case then mysticism is less about the energy itself and more about the intent._ Mind over matter… _that was literal, wasn’t it?_ User and sword… _Connection. Link. Bridge. Mind and matter, no, mind_ **to** _matter, one way reaction_ holy Eureka it was CHEMISTRY _._

**Intent + Mystic Energy \+ Object -> Mystic Object**

Mystic energy was a _catalyst_. Or at least, a bonding agent.

“Then that means anti-mystic energy is just a reverse chemical reaction!” he bubbled excitedly, not explaining how he jumped to the conclusion. “It would be when _matter_ triumphs over _mind_.” He lapsed into awe. “This changes everything.”

“Um… perhaps,” Draxum hedged. “I haven’t actually studied the devices that dabble in this to know if that is true. I’m an alchemist, not an engineer.”

“ _Was_ an alchemist,” Mikey sang. He placed the mug, now full of hot, _liquid_ coffee, in Draxum’s hands and took the plate. “Best not to dwell on the past when we’re moving forward. How’s the lunchroom?”

Draxum grunted, the warring scientist gone and the sulking sheep-man back.

“That’s great!”

“But how _could_ one reverse it?” Donnie pondered aloud, oblivious to their conversation. “If you’re trying to get matter to affect mind you’d need the ‘one-way bridge’ energy to overrule the embedded intent. Unless you’re negating one intent with another? Would two mystic minds cancel each other out?”

“Like I said, this isn’t my area.” Draxum huffed, “I focused on the energy more innate to the Yokai.” He took a sip of the surprisingly delicious coffee and tried not to react to it.

“But how is that different?”

Draxum smirked. “Yokai are born mystic; unlike other inferior beings who must _become_ mystic.”

They frowned at the tone.

“Well, I think that’s enough theorizing for this morning,” Mikey decided before Donnie could open his mouth and make further inquiries. He patted Draxum’s shoulder. “You stay out of trouble and call us if you happen to see any creepy government officials hanging around, you hear?” He scooped up his dinosaur costume and tugged Donnie towards the door.

“ _All_ humans are creepy, governmental or not,” Draxum muttered as they exited. He looked out the window at the bright skyline. “They creep into the schools, creep into the cities, creep everywhere until there’s nowhere left to go.” He sipped the coffee, lost for a moment in a dark contemplation where the turtles could not follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I heavily debated combining this chapter with the next, but decided against it for the sake of certain emotional beats. That said, expect another update soon. Thank you to everyone who has been leaving comments! They feed my soul...


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised: a quick update!

April had just finished re-wrapping her arms when she heard the knock at the door. She peered through the peephole and saw two, blurry, orange and purple hoodies.

“Guys!”

“April!” Mikey hugged her. “How are you? How are your arms?”

“You won’t have long to wait before the first _synthetic_ alchemical armor enters beta! Ha-ha!” Donnie followed, eyes agleam with a touch of madness.

“Wha-?” She shook her head. “Okay. Arms are fine! Scabbing like a mother, but I re-wrapped them all by myself!” She shut the door and grinned. “What brings you by?”

“Oh, we were checking on your upstairs neighbor,” Mikey waved off. “Were you the one who told him about coffee?”

“Hey, if you want to rehabilitate a grumpy scientist, coffee is the fastest path to success.”

“I concur,” Donnie said, rapidly typing some notes on his phone. Putting it away, he spied a family photo from the living room nightstand and picked it up. “Say, when do we get to meet your begetters?”

“Very funny, Donnie.” She swiped the photo from his hands and set it back down.

“Hey, I have a reputation that I must live up to.”

“Aren’t they supposed to be coming back today?” Mikey asked, looking around.

“Oh, they are, but it’s still pretty early. D’you guys wanna grab breakfast? We can head over to Run of the Mill and-”

A key jiggled in the door.

Everyone froze.

As if slowed by time dilation, the lock started to turn.

“I thought you said-”

“Hide!” April backpedaled them into her bedroom. Mayhem woke up with a startled yowl as they tumbled in. She slammed the door behind them and pressed her back up against it just as her parents entered.

“We made it back, April!” her mother sang. Robyn was clearly going to swoop in for another one of her hugs but was thankfully prevented by the overnight and take-out bags she needed to set down. “How are you? Do you want some breakfast bagels?”

“Oh, uh, fine! Yes.”

Her father frowned. “What happened to your arms?”

April looked down at her bandages. Shoot! She didn’t have her jacket on! “Oh, this?” she laughed. “Uh, Mikey tried to teach me how to skateboard over the weekend.”

Behind her came a muffled “ _I did?”_ She kicked the door.

“I had a pretty epic wipe-out.” She smiled nervously.

Augie adjusted his glasses. “Let me take a look at them.”

“Aw, Dad, I just re-wrapped them!”

“Did you reapply any anti-septic or just wash them in soap and water? When’s your next tetanus shot due?”

Robyn playfully swatted him. “Augie, she knows all this, leave her be!” She flashed April an encouraging look. _I’m on your side._

…Which was weird and awkward and something April didn’t have the time to deal with.

Something thumped from the bedroom.

“What was that?” Augie said.

“What was what?” April asked, sweating. She banged her fist on the door, then did it again as if to a musical beat. “You mean me just knocking… on my own door?”

“Augie, hon, if you’re that serious about the bandages why don’t you grab some antiseptic from the store?” Robyn chuckled. “Wasn’t your medical bag running low on some?”

He narrowed his eyes, but whatever unspoken conversation passed between her parents went over April’s head. She just hoped they would leave, just for a moment, _see him to the lobby, Mom…_

“Alright,” he said suspiciously. “I’ll be back in a few.” He slowly headed out, pausing to look back at her once more. “You know you can call us anytime, right?”

April tried not to cringe. It was horribly true. Her dad, at least, _always_ answered the phone. It led to too many conversations happening while he was on the toilet, which is why it was always safer to just text him. “I know,” she said quickly. “But this is really no big deal.”

“Augie, please.”

He straightened his glasses in a _I know I’m being played_ fashion, and then shut the door.

Robyn breathed a sigh of relief. She turned that same encouraging smile back to April. “Now, who are we sneaking out?”

“What? What makes you think there’s anyone who needs to be snuck out? Of? Snucked out of?”

Her mom laughed. “Oh, April, when I was your age I let a guy stay overnight, too. My mom helped _me_ sneak him out before ripping me a new one so you also get one freebie. Now, let’s move before your father sees.”

“WHAT? But there’s nothing to see! No one’s here!” She pressed back further, trying to melt into the door itself. “It’s just Mayhem in there!”

“April…” _There_ was the Mom Voice. All the cozy-cozy I’m-here-for-you stuff was just getting awkward. This was familiar. This was the take-no-shit mother she knew.

“ _Mom_ , can’t I have a little privacy?”

Robyn walked up to her and crossed her arms. They stared each other down, daring the other to break first.

Her mother tossed up her hands. “Fine. I guess I’ll conveniently need to go to the bathroom.”

April sagged against the door as she turned away… and in that moment Robyn spun and yanked on the handle.

“No!”

Both ladies rushed inside and stopped. Mayhem sat on her bedspread, tail wagging casually. All the windows were closed and locked. Nothing else stirred. The yellow creature chirped at them.

“See?” April exhaled. “Like I said: just Mayhem.”

Her mother narrowed her eyes. “Then what was with all the secrecy and thumps?”

“I uh…” she glanced at her pet. “Fed Mayhem some catnip, but wasn’t sure how he’d react. He got pretty wound up right as you arrived… I didn’t want him escaping and tearing up the furniture.”

Mayhem looked unimpressed.

Her mom still seemed doubtful and took another step farther into the room. “Don’t you trust me?” April blurted out.

That did the trick. Robyn froze for a moment, then finally forced a laugh. “Of course I do. I’m sorry, sweetie. I’m a little shook up from the last two days and just want to look out for you.”

“I know you do,” April said, relieved they were on more honest ground. “And I appreciate it.”

Her mother smiled for real this time. She reached over and ruffled her hair. “Well, with that behind us, what else have I missed? You tried out skateboarding?”

“Yeah,” April said quickly. They walked out of the room towards the bagels in the kitchen. “But let’s not talk about that. We dissected a frog on Friday!”

“Ooh, that must have been fun!” Her mom opened the fridge and pulled out some cream cheese.

“Yeah.” April reached around her for some juice. “Three kids got sick from the formaldehyde and Erin Jackson fainted. Sunita and I were fine, though, and Ms. Talley said we were the most indomitable team there!”

“What a compliment!” Robyn searched for some plates. “Did Lizard Boy gift one of the frogs to his girlfriend – what was her name?”

“Haley. And no, not that I paid attention to, anyway. I don’t really hang out with them.” April shuddered.

Robyn nodded as she started spreading the cream cheese on their bagels. “Understandable. Out of curiosity, do you know an Othello von Ryan at your school?”

April choked on a sip of juice. Surely, she hadn’t heard that right. No one knew that name, at least, no one who wasn’t involved in… _that_ whole situation. _Donnie, what did you do?_ She glanced back at her bedroom.

“Why do you ask?” she said casually.

Robyn paused, and something in her shoulders tensed, like she knew they were back in the secretive awkwardness they had just escaped. She shrugged, but her eyes still looked troubled. “Bossman and I were just talking; he said he knew someone who went there.”

Their boss? How? Where did he get that name? Or was it a coincidence, was there someone _actually_ named Othello in another grade?

_Don’t be ridiculous,_ April told herself. _No one names their kid something that pretentious, only green-skinned theater nerds come up with a moniker like that._

She still hadn’t answered the question, though. She felt torn in two, with alarm bells ringing from both sides. Where was this going, why didn’t she like where this was going? What was the safest way to answer this?

“No. I don’t know anyone with that name.”

Her mom faltered in spreading the cream cheese. “Okay.” She handed April her plate but couldn’t quite meet her eyes. The fake smile was back and her nonchalant shrug was anything but. “It was a shot in the dark, no big deal.”

April kept quiet.

* * *

**_High-Key am Mikey_ **

_Mayhem poofed us to the street! Catch up_

_some other time?_

**_Big Sis_ **

_Yeah. And tell Donnie to text me later._

**_High-Key am Mikey_ **

_You got it!_

“Okay,” Mikey said, putting away his phone as the Turtle Tank rolled into the lair. “We’re going to have to be _vewy quiet_. That means no firecrackers, train whistles, or foghorns!”

“We don’t have any of those,” Donnie pointed out.

“So, this should be a _walk_ in the _park_.” The back hatch of the tank opened and Mikey slipped out. He rolled around ninja-style behind a spare tire, then slithered across the floor to some shelves. Popping up and looking around suspiciously for any signs of gray fur, he zigged and zagged out of the garage and into the lair.

Donnie walked after him in a straight line.

“Why are you sneaking arou-, Michelangelo, was this a _sneak visit?_ ”

“Shh!” he hushed. “No! We just don’t want to wake up-”

_Click._

“Hello, boys.”

“Dad!” Mikey greeted exuberantly. “We were just talking about you! How ya been?”

“Unchanged,” Splinter dead-panned.

“Really? You’re up earlier than per usual,” Donnie slid in.

“I had to go to the bathroom. Imagine my surprise when I see a trail of Orange’s laundry leading to an empty garage.” He narrowed his eyes. “Where did you boys go?”

“Oh, we visited April!” Mikey laughed. Not a lie. They totally did. “Wanted to make sure she was doing well and all. She is, by the way!”

“I see.” Splinter was still giving them the side-eye. “And you didn’t happen to visit anyone _else_ in that complex?”

Mikey chuckled again and hoped Dad couldn’t see the sweat beading on his forehead. That was a pretty direct question. Could he get away with mentioning Mayhem or would that just make things worse? It wasn’t like him to inquire about their whereabouts this intensely unless he already knew something was up. Mikey hoped that wasn’t the case. “Oh, Dad, why do you ask?”

Splinter pointed. “You have your dinosaur costume tucked under your arm.”

Oh. He totally did.

“Donnie supervised!”

“I did _what?_ ”

“You did visit Baron Draxum!” Splinter yelled. “After I explicitly told you not to! Do my words go in one ear and out the other?”

“Ow!”

“Ow, why me?”

“It wasn’t for very long,” Mikey protested, rubbing his head where Splinter had chopped him. “And I didn’t go alone. Just made sure he was up and at ‘em; provide a little company, make some coffee-”

“Coffee? You’re making coffee for that, that-” Splinter furiously shook his finger at them as words failed to describe what he thought of the Yokai.

“If I may, the visit was mostly benign, and very enlightening, actually-”

“I don’t care what it was! You went behind my back to aide an enemy! You are both grounded!”

“What?!” Mikey gasped. “For how long?”

“Until you learn your lesson: why we do not give second chances to evil madmen!” Splinter held out his hand. “And give me your cell phones. I do not want you contacting him another way!”

“Draxum doesn’t even have a phone!” Mikey wailed, handing his over, regardless. Donnie’s had to be plucked out of his numb fingers; the purple turtle seemed to be glitching out for a moment as he processed the sudden loss.

“No arguing! Now go to your rooms!”

“Ahh!”

The cry emerged from Raph’s bedroom, bringing everyone up short. The boys glanced at their father, unsure what to do. Mikey wanted to run in and hug Raph, but he was also supposed to be going to his room, and he didn’t know which move would make everyone happy.

Splinter was not unaffected, though. His head turned sharply at the sound and his features softened from infuriated rage to concern. He looked back at them and his tone eased.

“I will go check on Red. But don’t think you are getting let off easy. _I_ will decide your parole!”

“Fine…”

“Okay…”

Mikey trailed dejectedly after Donnie up the lair. With such a reception it was going to take longer to convince Dad that Draxum could be good than he expected. Donnie seemed to handle him okay, for today, which was a good sign. He really wanted to talk with Raph about the visit, but…

He stopped before entering his room, turning back to see Splinter still watching him. The rat pointed two fingers at his eyes, then back at Mikey. Then, with a stout nod, he moved and disappeared into Raph’s room.

… but that could wait. Dad had to take care of a different conversation with his older brother.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a bit shorter, but it's the last of the calm before the storm, so enjoy it while you can... mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha

It wasn’t often anymore that Splinter had to comfort his sons after nightmares.

Orange tended to rotate; he knew the youngest went to his older brothers just as often as he came to him. Fellowship and comfort were what he craved, and so on bad nights Splinter would don his fuzziest robe and cuddle with him in the living room watching movies full of happy people. It normally didn’t take long for him to fall asleep again.

Blue was actually the second most frequent visitor concerning scary dreams. Splinter didn’t think he had ever turned to one of his brothers, despite how often he was there for them. He had an image to uphold: an unconcerned, take-things-in-stride unflappability. Splinter never let on how much he understood this struggle; while his appearance may have altered, his good looks certainly hadn’t (he insisted to anyone who asked). Blue wanted privacy, and the least Splinter could do was provide a space for his son to let down his guard. The presence of warm drinks tended to help, and so he often put on a kettle of hot tea for the two of them before the young one returned to his room.

As rare as it was for Purple to come to him admitting he had a nightmare, it did happen on occasion. There wasn’t much Splinter needed to do: his son always needed to make sense of the nightmare, understand why he had it and what it meant. This normally meant a lot of listening; his boy was bright and usually worked things out for himself, save for some useful prompting in the right direction and pointed questions. The only drawback was that such conversations required Splinter to be a little more awake than he normally was, but he did his best and things usually seemed to work out.

But Red was a different case. There was a time when Red came to him the most out of all of them, when he was much younger. His son had long been plagued by recurring nightmares, and over time had gradually stopped approaching him. Splinter suspected it wasn’t just because the nightmares had grown infrequent; he could tell his other sons responded of their own accord whenever there was a flare-up. No, it was embarrassment. Possibly shame, as preposterous as it was to think. While he knew now that it was okay to run to parental figures at any age for comfort, 15-yr-old minds have trouble grasping that. His certainly did. Added to the responsibility Red felt for being the oldest, it was no wonder he tried to keep his anxiety and nightmares ‘on the down-low’.

But if Red wouldn’t come to Splinter, then Splinter would come to him.

He stepped into the bedroom. “Raphael? Can you hear me?”

He waited until his son responded before moving any closer. The hyperventilation was slowly calming down and he could make out Red’s form in the darkness hugging several of his teddy bears. After another moment, he was able to choke out some words. “Y-yeah, Pops.”

Splinter moved forward and sat next to him, resting a hand on his arm. “Anatawa hitorijanai,” he murmured, low enough he almost couldn’t hear it himself. “I am here.”

In the next second he found himself being squeezed alongside the teddy bears. He was a world-class ninja, a master of ninjutsu, and yet his son still held the record for fastest snatch-hugs. He tried not to squirm against the crushing grip and patted his elbow – the only part he could reach – affectionately. “Troubled, lately?”

“I don’t even know why,” Raph said, his breath tickling Splinter’s fur. “Things have been normal. Or, as normal as can get for us. Sure, there’s some crazy fights and weird adventures, and these BAI guys tracking down mutants, which I just don’t _trust_ … but it started happening before all that. I don’t even know _why,”_ he repeated.

Splinter patted his arm some more as he heard his breath hitch. “Sometimes anxiety has no identifiable root,” he said. “And sometimes it heightens precisely because things _are_ going so well… and so it waits for the other shoe to drop.”

His son thought about it for a moment and released him. “You think so?”

He stretched out the cricks in his back. Bone-crushing hugs were usually just an expression. “I know so,” he answered amidst the popping joints. “I have been around life a time or two. And raise four sons.” He hopped back on the bed. “Was it the impossible test again?”

“No.” His son stared blankly at the floor. “It was the round room.”

Oh.

_That_ nightmare.

Splinter hated this one.

He peered at the teddy bears Raph was cradling and confirmed that Mayor Cuddlecakes was among them. Although raggedy and patched over, the toy had diligently been doing its duty for the past 12 years. Raph hugged it closer as he spoke.

“It’s always horrible, but it’s been playing just the end more and more. I don’t spend as much time wandering around the sewers. The unfamiliar doesn’t show up, it’s like it’s already there. And it ends when the dinosaur sees me and charges…” He shuddered. “Somehow it’s still scary.”

“Hmm…” Splinter twisted one of his whiskers. “That is interesting. You know, in the beginning, you always said the ‘dinosaur’ saved you.”

“I did?” His son’s astonishment stink wafted over him. “It did?”

“Oh yes.” He nodded, and pretended he was just getting more comfortable instead of scooching away from the smell. “The dinosaur scooped you up and took you out of the round room. At least, that was how it used to go.”

“I don’t remember that.” Raph looked off in the distance. “But, I guess it does change a little every time.”

“Dreams do that, especially as we grow and encounter fresh circumstances.” Splinter finally gave up on pretense and hopped off the bed. “The fortunate news is that dreams are not the only ones that can rewrite themselves. We have that power, as well. Your strength is not just physical, my son.”

“I guess so.” Raph finally smiled. His back straightened. “Then we’ll let Raph dictate the ending next time!”

“That’s the spirit,” Splinter approved. “Mind over matter. Take charge of your own fears.”

“Yeah!” Raph abruptly stood up, spilling the teddy bears. “It’s like what Donnie says about seizing the day. Carpet Demon! Unfamiliar suit, it’s time for some mental smashing!”

“Uhhh, perhaps.” He didn’t think that’s how the expression went, but he was here to positively reinforce his son, not correct him. “Do what you do best. You are a nightmare for _nightmares_ to handle, and do not forget that.”

“Awww, thanks, Pop!”

“Of cou-oof!” Several things popped as he was caught in another hug. “Anytime,” he wheezed.

Mercifully, the hug was brief and his son’s post-nightmare anxiety seemed fully gone. Splinter saluted him as he exited, ready to take on the day, some (suits? Did he hear that right?) and perhaps a real carpet demon, too.

As soon as he was gone, he slumped.

Why was that nightmare back? It had been ages (that he was aware of) since its last occurrence. He had hoped to never deal with it again.

It was only a reminder of his greatest failure.

He was pretty certain by this point that none of the boys remembered it. It was the worst week in his life. Freshly and fully mutated, struggling to set up a semi-recognizable home in the sewers, he had his hands full with survival and the upkeep of four tiny lives. They were growing quickly, they understood nothing, and he himself was massively unprepared for the whole situation.

Red had wandered off. He was missing for six days.

Splinter had searched every inch of the sewers he knew during that time, frantically calling and sniffing for his boy. He even left notes in case Red stumbled across areas he had already covered, even though the young turtle could not yet read. So, while he was a terrible artist, he tried leaving pictures, too. The other three cried constantly, aware that something was amiss. Fearful he would lose them too, and even more afraid of what they would see should he find their brother, he had to quietly lock them up in a makeshift room after they lapsed into an exhausted nap every day while he searched. He himself didn’t sleep a wink.

Just as he was about to give up, he found him far out in the sewers by the East River. It was miles from home, and his son was snarling and savage and bit him several times before he was able to calm down. Splinter still had the scars from those bites hidden under his fur. He was just so happy he was _alive_ that he hadn’t bothered to treat them at the time.

The nightmares started after they returned home. No longer feral, the toddler had babbled nonsense. Shadows, a scary, white, round room, and a creature he thought was a dinosaur rescuing him. He couldn’t stand sleeping alone and cried horrendously when left by himself for any length of time.

It wasn’t long after that that Splinter made an excursion to the surface for a first-ever non-survival need. Upon his return, Mayor Cuddlecakes was introduced to the Hamato clan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also want to thank everyone who has been reviewing, I'm sorry if I don't get back to all of you individually quickly. I've been having to fight my brain a lot on that. They do mean the world to me, though, I love you all!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a rough playlist for this story on tumblr if any of you want to check it out: https://danzinora-switch.tumblr.com/post/639352168522104832/monsters-among-us-playlist
> 
> Enjoy!

_-_ … _then it would be matter over mind. The only thing I can’t figure out is how to get matter to triumph mind; I’ve considered the possibility of two conflicting intents that nullify each other, or a stronger intent to ‘cease’ the mystic-whatever, but that still follows the same mind over matter script._

_-That is a promising theory. I will certainly have my people look into it. Have you already tested it?_

_-Not yet, it’s difficult coming up with something that can deliberately disrupt thought. The closest thing I can get think of is like when annoying music is played too loudly. That’s a form of broadcast mindlessness, right? Or white noise? Something a machine could generate? I never thought I would have to ask dummies how they operate._

That was it.

The application was still astoundingly complex, but the answer itself was that simple.

With seemingly unlimited magical powers, it was no wonder that there was so little Yokai engineering. But with this theory, the engineering that _did_ exist made so much more sense. Bishop turned to the anti-mystic device sitting on the counter, quiet and unblinking, ready for action.

_Machines don’t think._

They were looking at the wrong issue with Jericho. It wasn’t the strength of the signal, it was the content of the broadcast. They seemed to have the right frequency, judging from the massive attempt to secure all of HQ and Cocytus from mystic energy, but now they could _really_ up its effectiveness. It would be so simple to test, as well. Endless code streaming from the inner workings of Jericho and they should be able to judge strength, range, sustainability…

Oh yes, this little mission of tracking down Othello von Ryan had been _quite_ worth it.

Bishop pushed away from the Cherubim, standing so quickly he knocked the chair over. He needed to pull Chaplin from Bronze and focus on Jericho completely to test this breakthrough. If successful, they needed to get Maria off the ground _now_. His proposal to Washington was already half-drafted; he would complete it tonight.

And perhaps this elusive, yet so informative, Othello von Ryan could consult, if not head, its revival. For a scientist already familiar with mystic energy, and likely the _sources_ of those mystic objects, surely he would understand Bishop’s motives with these projects. The Cherubim still had not been able to find Von Ryan’s real name, though it did locate a few library cards and other accounts using the alias. He was getting impatient. Blocked on all cyber fronts, he had to wait for Agent O’Neil to get back to him. He didn’t like waiting on people.

Perhaps he wouldn’t have to…

* * *

Robyn was pensive. Bishop could tell that from a distance. Her distraction led her to miss a step in arming the electric stun gun she was demonstrating to the recruits. Instead of firing a couple volts of energy at the dummy target, the gun just clicked. She fumbled with it for a moment, retracing her steps, before finally redialing the voltage setting _after_ pressing her thumb to the biometric scanner, which she had skipped. Blue energy crackled around the weapon’s muzzle. She pointed and fired two rounds at the dummy, hitting it in the torso and upper chest. Sloppy; she normally hit the same spot twice.

The air smelled of ozone and static as she disarmed the gun and put it away. Augustus tapped her shoulder and stepped in to handle questions. He must have noticed that she was off her game, as well. Bishop thought a couple days off would have done them good, and while Augustus appeared the same as ever his wife was troubled.

Bishop was pleased; if it was related to trouble with her daughter, as he suspected, then this would work to his advantage.

He stepped forward from the back of the training room where he had been hovering. “O’Neil,” he spoke, his voice cutting through the recruits’ questions like a knife. When husband and wife both turned to him, he indicated Robyn. “A word, please.”

They exchanged looks – one of cringe, one of encouragement – and Robyn made her way over to him. He could practically see her mentally berating herself. A smile barely touched his lips. Let her think he was going to chew her out for the slip with the stun gun. It would make the real conversation seem a relief.

“Agent Bishop,” she greeted stiffly.

He jerked his head to the door. “Let’s take a walk.”

Her face reflected surprise and a hint of dread. He turned and left the training room, expecting her to follow.

“What’s on your mind?” she recovered professionally once they were outside in the hall. Bishop kept walking, and Robyn was forced to lengthen her strides to keep up with him.

“Is everything alright?”

She faltered a moment in her steps, thrown off balance by the question. “Um, yes, sir. I’m fine.”

“Really? You seemed bothered by something during the demonstration. I’ve not known you to ever mishandle a weapon.”

She straightened, the defensive posture returning. “It won’t happen again, sir.”

“Relax, Robyn.” He watched her blink, not yet fully registering that he had used her first name. It was meant to both relax her and keep her unbalanced. “I am not grading you.” 

It took her another moment to process the joke. When she did, she laughed suddenly, and then cut it short as if she shouldn’t have. “Thank you, sir.” Then, haltingly, “I have been a little distracted.”

“Is it something I can help with?”

She shook her head, shoulders a little more relaxed since the conversation was kept lighter than she had anticipated. Perfect. “No. Well, yes. No, no! It’s just April.”

Bingo.

“Is everything okay?” he worded carefully. “I understand you dislike being apart from her.”

“Well yes, but I’m not like, a helicopter parent or anything.” She crossed her arms. “We’re… she’s keeping secrets. I know it, she knows it, Augie knows it, but I don’t know _why_. She can tell me anything, I thought she knew that! I’m at a loss.”

He nodded sympathetically. “Do you fear she’s getting embroiled in trouble?”

“That’s the thing, I don’t think so. And I can’t figure out what she’s being evasive about, either. It’s like…” she broke off with a frustrated sigh, then snapped her fingers. “You asked me about an Othello von Ryan, remember?”

“Yes,” he replied neutrally.

“Well, I asked April if she knew him and she said ‘no’, but…” the troubled look returned to Robyn’s face. “But she was _lying_ , or at least, I thought she was. All her tells were there, but when I looked up the school’s roster she was right, I couldn’t find any Von Ryan’s enrolled there.” She looked questioningly at him.

“He may have transferred,” Bishop answered smoothly. “It _has_ been a while since I’ve been in contact with the family.”

Robyn still looked guilty, so he innocently pushed the subject. “Don’t you trust your daughter?”

“Of course!” she insisted, but her nervous eyes betrayed her. “I just… don’t know how to reach her.”

He could work with that. “I’ve been reviewing those stationary projects I’ve mentioned, and it appears we will be able to launch them ahead of schedule.” She perked up, predictably. “We should take a lunch or a dinner sometime to discuss our options: what you want exactly for connecting with your family, and what would fit best with the new openings. Of course, Augustus and April are invited, so that everyone may be on the same page moving forward.”

Robyn’s eyes widened comically. “Of, of course! Yes, sir! I mean, when would you like?”

“The sooner the better, wouldn’t you agree?”

She did, quite eagerly, practically tripping over her words. He regarded her, amused, as she talked herself into promising a home-cooked dinner that very night.

Of course he accepted. It would have been rude to decline.

* * *

“Girl, I can’t believe you’ve never played Castle of Cats!” April exclaimed.

“I haven’t played _any_ video game, it’s not like we have a TV at home,” Sunita said. She hugged her books to chest in excitement as they walked. “What’s it even about?”

“Oh, you are in for a _treat_ ,” she gushed. “You start in the capital castle of Kitty Kingdom, after you design your cat-avatar, which-” she animatedly described the details of the video game as they climbed the steps to her apartment. Sunita stayed glued to her with attention, excitement building.

“Wait, so how do you carry tools and weapons as a cat? I thought they needed to walk on all fours.”

“It’s a cat-avatar, so you walk upright, like humans, but you’re in cat form so you have a mixture of both traits.” April unlocked her door and threw it open. “Like, you still hock up hairballs, but at least you can clean up after yourself and it’s actually a societal norm.”

She turned to take in the apartment as she spoke and froze.

Her mother, father, and a man in a suit all looked at her from the kitchen. Both her parents were more dressed up than usual, and the nice dinnerware was set out on the dining room table. April stayed frozen as the door swung shut behind her. No one seemed to know how to handle her bizarre entrance.

Sunita poked her head around her and looked at the stranger. “Ooh, is this your uncle?”

Augie barked out a laugh and the weird tension dissolved. “I take it back, some people _are_ colorblind.”

“April, this is our boss, John Bishop,” Robyn explained.

“A pleasure to meet you and… your friend,” Bishop spoke. He sounded like a cheap, monotone Batman. Something about his tone made April shiver. She grabbed Sunita’s hand and squeezed.

“Yes, I’m sorry. This is Sunita.”

“It is very nice to meet you!” she chirped confidently.

“Indeed.” He pushed his tinted glasses further up his nose. “That is a lovely brooch you have on.”

“Thanks!” Sunita beamed. “My grandmother gave it to me.”

“Did she now?”

April interrupted with a forced chuckle. “Well, we, ah, were just going to play some Castle of Cats; I’m sure you all have very important things to discuss, so-”

“ _April,_ ” her father said in that tone of voice warning her not to be rude.

“I sent you a text, sweetie, did you get it?” her mother asked.

She blinked and fumbled for her phone. “Um…”

“It’s okay,” Sunita tapped her arm. “We can play video games another day. Pops mentioned he might need an extra hand tonight, anyway.”

April gave her an apologetic smile. “Thanks. See you tomorrow?”

“Of course!” Sunita hugged her.

As her parents bid Sunita good-bye and they broke the hug she noticed Bishop slip his phone back into his pocket. She narrowed her eyes and pushed her glasses further up on her face.

It was dinnertime.

* * *

Hun waited outside of the apartment in a black car, as was his usual position. He saw the two teenage girls enter, presumably April O’Neil and a friend. Just a few minutes later, Bishop texted him two words.

_Follow her._

He started the car and waited, and before long the friend reappeared. She wore a pink jumper, which was bright and easy to track as he slowly trailed behind her through the streets. It didn’t feel creepy; John never had him tail somebody without justification. Plus, it had to be important enough to send him away from his lookout position. He trusted John in all things, and he had yet to steer them wrong.

The Hawaiian girl skirted through a crowd of people and for a moment Hun thought he lost her. The crowd wore many bright colors and shifted quickly enough that he couldn’t see who was a part of it and who was just trying to walk through them. He kept an eye on the edges and finally spotted her pink jumper turning a corner… back in the direction she had already come from.

Clever.

Hun drove a little more cautiously. It was too soon to tell if she had spotted him or was just being careful. At any rate, a guy like him was more inconspicuous _in_ the car rather than outside of it.

At last the girl paused next to a laundromat and looked around. Hun shut down the car across the street and pulled his scarf up over his lower face. With the windows tinted, it should look like it was empty, but just in case, he didn’t want anybody to recognize him if spotted. After a few more moments of checking, she walked down a dead-end alley beside the laundromat. Hun leaned forward as she stopped before a wall graffitied with NYC and a couple of skulls. After one last look around, she made a hand gesture.

The wall opened in a swirl of light.

The teen skipped to the side as an elderly woman and young man walked out carrying what looked like take-out boxes. She ducked into the light after they had passed and the wall returned to normal.

He didn’t need John’s glasses to know what was going on. He pulled out his phone.

* * *

Since April hadn’t had time to change into something a little more formal, she stuck out oddly at the table with her regular jacket and bandages peeking out from its arms. Fine by her. She didn’t like being ambushed by a dinner and wasn’t going to play catch-up for a last minute decision she had no say in. The meal began with a few comments on how delicious everything was, but lapsed into silence pretty quickly. She kept glancing between her folks and the waxen John Bishop. _This_ was the guy they worked for?

He wiped his mouth with a napkin and neatly folded it. “The three projects I have in mind involve mostly research and technology. They could all easily accommodate a regular 9-5 work week. Would this be satisfactory?”

Her mother straightened, chewing faster so she could swallow and speak. “Yes, that would be wonderful.”

“You won’t get bored?” Augie raised an eyebrow.

“Do you find anything about what we are already researching boring, Augustus?”

Her father reflected for a moment, steadily eyeing Bishop. “No, I suppose not.”

“It will be interesting, Augie,” Robyn reassured. “Something a little different!”

Her father still looked skeptical.

April’s eyes bounced back and forth between everyone, trying to follow the conversation. What was this, a work meeting? Was her mom getting a promotion? Didn’t they just get one? Weren’t they already working ‘normal’ hours, except, no, they still sometimes had to work weekends, or stay late, so was this an attempt to-

Her eyes widened.

“But Mom, you’ve always groaned and complained about the average 40 hour work week,” April said quickly, siding with her father. “What changed?”

Her mother bit her lip and looked down.

Her father crossed his arms and looked at Robyn with a mixture of concerned understanding and indignation.

Bishop looked at April.

“There is nothing yet set in stone,” he said. “But the BAI is growing, and our needs are shifting. We are simply trying to do what’s best.”

Somehow his words were anything but reassuring. It was vague enough that April couldn’t tell if he was referring to her mom wanting to stay home more or referencing something larger within the bureau. In fact, it was probably meant to be ambiguous, which only annoyed her further. Why couldn’t people just say what they mean?

He changed the subject before she could reply. “How is school faring? You’re in the 10th grade, correct?”

“Yeah.” She stabbed at her potatoes. The creepy feeling was back and she suddenly didn’t want to talk about her life with this guy. His gaze was too intense, and his voice too composed.

“Almost 11th,” her father filled in anyway. “Final exams are in two weeks? Three?”

“Three,” she mumbled.

“I asked Robyn here if you knew a friend of mine,” Bishop gestured. “Though admittedly I have been out of touch with the Von Ryan’s for some time.”

April stopped eating and looked up at him. He met her glare passively. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. A smirk slowly spread across her face. She had him, now. Caught in a lie, maybe her parents would finally see how shady this guy was being.

“You know, it’s funny,” she began, not taking her eyes off of him. “The only person I’ve ever known to go by Othello von Ryan is _my_ good friend, Donnie. But that’s a stage name _he_ came up with. Weird how you know a family that doesn’t exist.”

Her parents were looking at her, aghast, but Bishop only smiled. “What an astounding coincidence.”

“You said you didn’t know anyone by that name!” Robyn accused.

“I _don’t_ , because it’s not a real name,” she snapped back, annoyed.

“I didn’t know Donnie acted,” her father mused.

“He doesn’t. Well, he’s always been dramatic so he probably should, but that’s not the point!”

“You could have clarified as much!” Robyn still didn’t let go. “You could have simply told me it was Donatello!”

“Are you kidding me?” she exploded. How were they still missing the point? Bishop lied! Were they just going to ignore that? She pointed her fork at him. “He says he knows Othello von Ryan but there’s no Othello von Ryan to know!”

“ _You_ know him!”

“Oh my _god._ ” April stood up. “If you guys can’t see the problem here, then I’m out.” She turned and headed for her room, fuming.

“April!” her father said sternly.

“It’s fine, she can go,” Bishop replied, and that was all she heard before she slammed the door behind her.

* * *

Robyn turned to Bishop. “I apologize, she’s normally never this disrespectful.”

“I would not expect otherwise from any sixteen-year-old,” he assuaged. He returned to eating his food as if the entire debacle hadn’t just happened.

Augustus was watching him closely. “She does raise a curious point.”

“Oh?”

“That it’s a remarkable coincidence you know someone with a made-up name.”

Bishop took an unbothered moment to swallow his potatoes. “It is also curious that neither of you were aware of it. How long have you known this Donatello?”

“Oh, April’s known him and his brothers for years,” Robyn said. “The five of them hang out all the time.”

“So you’ve never met them?”

Hesitation flickered across her features and Augustus looked away. “No,” she admitted. “But I’ve spoken on the phone with everyone except Leo, I think. I’ve certainly heard them all in the background when they play video games. Their father sends us a Christmas card every year.”

“Indeed?” He set down his fork. “Family holiday photos and everything?”

“Well… no…”

“I see.” A dangerous theory began forming in his mind. His watch buzzed and he glanced at it. It was a reply from Hun. Excellent timing.

He scooted back from the table and stood up. “Thank you both for your time and hospitality, but something has come up that I must see to immediately. I will be in touch about those positions, Robyn.”

She also rose quickly, stuttering pleasantries, but Augustus remained seated, eyeing him. Bishop would need to keep a watch on the medic. He was far too perceptive when he wasn’t blinded by a goal like his wife, and of all the wrong things. Bishop couldn’t believe two of his best agents had just let their daughter walk in hand in hand with a _Yokai_ , of all things.

But he could deal with him later. Judging from the text from Hun, there were bigger things that he had to prepare for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here. we. go.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, I do headcanon that all the turtles have the ability to pull inside their shells; I made a long post about it on tumblr @danzinora-switch if you'd like to dig into my reasoning. Enjoy!

**Activate.**

**Command: find ‘Donatello’ search ‘Donnie’ include spelling variants**

**Find ‘Leo’ include spelling variants**

**Refine: in conjunction with ‘April O’Neil’, New York City, Eastman Early College**

**Exclude: historical artist Donatello**

**Expand search: run Y-protocol visual imaging**

**Refine Y-protocol: groups of no less than 4**

**Searching…**

**Found 26 results.**

**Open first result.**

**Opening apriloneil/###########/phonemessaging/sunita/201904052117**

_hey girl, **Donnie** just texted me that the guys are going camping this weekend, wanna housesit with me?_

**Open second result.**

**Opening apriloneil/##########/phonemessaging/robynoneil/201809151031**

_Homecoming sucked, but I got to hang out with **Leo** and Raph afterwards. They didn’t know where **Donnie** was to get this blocker off my phone, tho._

**Pause.**

**Refine command: find ‘Donatello’ search ‘Donnie’ include spelling variants**

**Find ‘Leo’ include spelling variants**

**Find ‘Raph’ include spelling variants**

**Searching…**

**Found 39 results.**

**Open first result.**

**Opening apriloneil/##########/instacam/sherlock_corn/201812121703**

_Our Jupiter Jim snowman 2.0! Scarf flag courtesy of @ **Raph**. See first post._

**Opening apriloneil/##########/instacam/sherlock_corn/201812120945**

_Check out our Jupiter Jim snowman! #when **Leo** andMikeyhaveagoodidea._

**Pause.**

**Refine command: find ‘Donatello’ search ‘Donnie’ include spelling variants**

**Find ‘Leo’ include spelling variants**

**Find ‘Raph’ include spelling variants**

**Find ‘Mikey’ include spelling variants**

**Found 52 results.**

**Refine: apriloneil/##########/contacts**

**Found 4 results.**

**Access ‘Donnie’.**

**Error. Could not access private network.**

**Access ‘Neon Leon’.**

**Error. Could not access private network.**

**Access ‘Mikey’.**

**Error. Could not access private network.**

**Access ‘Raphael’.**

**Error. Could not access private network.**

**Refine: Y-protocol only**

**Found 1 result.**

**Open result.**

**Opening baxterstockboy/subscribe/youtoo/mutant-menace-hoax-or-nope/video**

**Close result.**

**Refine: apriloneil/##########/photos**

**Access.**

**You do not have permission to access this feature.**

**Override Agent John Bishop Two-Kilo-Oscar-Zero-Three**

**You do not have permission to access this feature.**

**Override Agent John-**

**Incoming message; BAI Internal_Hun**

**Open message.**

**Opening hun/##########/messages**

_The recruits are ready. Are we a go?_

**Refine: remove apriloneil/##########/photos**

**Found 52 results.**

**Compile and send to account.**

**Processing…**

**Reply to hun/##########/messages**

_Yes. I will be right there._

* * *

“Señor Hueso! Mi amigo! It has been too long, hasn’t it?”

The bone man looked flatly at Leo. “And yet, somehow not long enough.”

It was light in the pizza restaurant for a Thursday both in terms of staff and patrons. The angler waiter was attending a rhino-like couple in a booth by the door, Exploding Frankie entertained a family of five lizard-birds, and three rock-like Yokai sat in silence in a corner. It was the only reason the manager was lucky (or unlucky) enough to be serving Leo himself, much to the teen’s glee.

He laughed at the banter. “That’s a good one. Listen, I’m about to make up for all the business you missed from us because I have got a _huge_ order to fill. _And_ , it’s _to go_.”

Hueso looked skeptically at the booth the turtle had made himself comfortable in. Leo kept his trademark smile in place as the manager came around. The bone man could deny it all he wanted, but Leo knew he had a certain charm that worked on him. Surely, if Hueso was ever serious about being annoyed with his buddy/pal/mentee/partner in crime, he would just kick him out of the restaurant, right? At least, that was Leo’s reasoning. But come on, Hueso loved him, didn’t he?

“Fine,” Hueso gave in. “What is the occasion?”

“Oh, nothing in particular, it’s just been really quiet in the lair.” Leo propped an elbow on the table while his other arm looped around the hilt of his odachi. “I mean, Raph’s not sleeping well, Donnie’s buried under his tech, and Mikey’s still on a mission to draw our greatest foe to the light, which got him and Donnie grounded for like, ever. So _I_ figure we get a whole bunch of pizzas from Run of the Mill and kick off a Jupiter Jim marathon to start everyone fresh! So whaddaya say about helping me out?”

“Hmm. For once, that is not such a stupid idea.”

“I get those more often than people think, but _perfect_.” He propped up a menu. “Now, for starters, we’ll want at least four-”

He paused, frowning as he felt a tremor run up through his feet. He looked around to place where it was coming from, but there was no music playing or anything with a heavy bass that could account for it. “Do you feel that?”

“Pepino, I am made of bone, I do not ‘feel’ anything in the traditional sense.”

Leo chuckled customarily, but subtly shifted his arm to grip his sword instead of merely lean on it. “Right, of course. So, um, like I was saying, we want four…”

The tremor took on a pattern, thrumming along the floor. He tried to focus on the menu but couldn’t. He gave up and set it down, eyes coming to rest on the wall that led to the alley. For an instant, he could have sworn he saw outside. He blinked, but the mural was back, now. Trying to remain casual as the warning bells rang in his head, he nudged Hueso.

“Is something wrong with your door?”

Hueso turned.

The wall to the alley glitched again in a slow wave, like a lagging video game, and then cut out entirely.

A dozen humans stood outside.

And they were _armed_.

They all wore the same suits Leo had seen in Central Park, except for 3 of them. There was an orange-haired man crouching by a large, bulbous device on the ground that was emitting loud pulses, a huge guy in black tactical gear with a scarf and scar across his face, and a man in a long-coated suit.

That man raised his arm and pointed. “Move in.”

The humans started rushing forward.

Leo was already on his feet, rolling his shoulders and swishing his sword. “I take it they don’t have a reservation, do they?”

“No,” Hueso answered, eye sockets going wide.

That was all he needed to hear. Leo cracked his neck and started running lightly towards the humans pouring in. He leapt over a table Starsky and Hutch style and twisted in the air, odachi changing hands. When he came out of the spin, his sword had enough force behind it to chop off the barrel of the first gun.

The human dropped the remains in surprise. Leo kicked it up into their face.

“Bulls-eye!”

Two other humans were moving around the gunless one, now, trying to flank him. _Nope, definitely not a fan of that._ He drove forward at one, thrusting the point of his sword into their gun to deflect it away from him. The air shifted around him.

Behind. Left.

He canted his body to the right and felt the ball of bright, blue energy crackle as it passed him. It slammed into the human he was attacking and they jerked, twitching violently. Electricity.

He pulled his sword from their gun before it could spread to him and whirled at the human who had fired the shot. Swing, up. The next shot went into the ceiling. He kicked the human backwards before they could recover, sword hooking their gun away in the same movement. It collided with the first human’s helmet and they went down.

Leo took a couple steps back, breathing hard. A shuddering thud drew his attention to the right. The slow-moving angler was somehow now in a metallic cage. Two more humans tossed a couple metal cubes at the rhino-Yokai trying to escape their booth. Upon impact cages sprang up around them, as well.

“Okay, _that’s_ not good.”

He started to move towards them but was interrupted by the most vicious battle cry ever. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Frankie screamed, and hurled himself at a group of humans. He exploded just before impact, and the humans flailed.

Despite himself, Leo laughed. “Oh, every time,” he wiped a tear from his eye. He gripped his sword with both hands and jumped into Frankie’s place, protecting the bird family. “Get out of here, go!”

They squawked and scrambled, unsure where to go with the main entrance blocked. Leo glimpsed Hueso ushering the rock Yokai towards the coveted Hall of Champions. Of course! The maze wasn’t exactly a way out, but maybe they could lose the humans in it should they follow.

Swish, clang. He rebounded a cube-cage at the human who threw it. When it popped open it swallowed another person with it. He grinned. _Oho, two in one!_ How many could he get to fit in the next one?

Frankie was reassembling when Leo felt the ground tremble beneath his feet, contrary to the pattern the machine was giving off. He turned and saw that the large man with the scarf had jumped towards the crowd running for the maze. His jaw dropped when the guy actually cleared the distance, beating the group to the door. The entire restaurant shook with the force of his landing. Unclipping them from his belt, Scarf-face flung a handful of cube-cages at them.

Leo grabbed Frankie’s reformed hand. “C’mon!”

He threw the googlyschmootz towards Hueso and the patrons and sailed through the air after him. Tucking inside his shell, he spun. The air charged and snapped around him as the humans took aim with their stun guns.

When he landed, Hueso nearly tripped over him, the only one thin enough to slip out of his cage. “Señor, I think we might be a _bit_ outnumbered. We need to get out of here.”

“Yes, but they have blocked all of the exits.” They ducked as another cube-cage sailed overhead. It trapped a chair against the far wall.

“Then we make our own exit.” He brandished his odachi. “Grab what cages you-”

Frankie cried out, body twitching with blue energy.

Leo whirled, barely bringing his sword up in time to deflect the stun gun. It was the man in the suit. _How did he get behind-?_

The man let the gun sail out of his grip and pulled out a machete, meeting his counterstrike. “So, you want to play, huh?”

“Is that what you call this?” he hissed through gritted teeth. This guy was _strong_. If only he could-

The man stomped on his foot. Leo bit his lip hard to keep from crying out. In a flash, their hold broke and the man sliced sideways at him. He barely managed to arc his gut enough to avoid the hit. This guy was _quick_. Another slice. He jumped backwards, putting more space between them.

“Pepino!”

Something hard and bony slammed him to the side. The air crackled and his eyes widened as Hueso took the shot meant for him. The electricity fizzled around the manager… but Hueso remained standing.

The bone Yokai turned and looked miffed at the scarred man who had fired. “Really, _coleta_?” he said dryly. Green flames ignited around his head. “I have no nervous system.”

The suited man lunged with his machete. Hueso caught it with his forearm. Leo flinched as steel bit bone.

“Get out of here, Pepino!” he shouted.

“I’m not leaving you!”

“Yes, you are. FIND HELP. Now go!” He let the machete cleave through his arm, then snatched the limb with his other hand while the blade was on the downstroke. The suited man lurched backwards to avoid a long-ranged slap.

Leo felt more than saw Scarf-face raise his stun gun towards him again. Biting his lip again and tasting blood, he sliced his sword in a circle on the ground. If he timed this just right…

Scarf-face fired. Leo held up two fingers as he fell through the portal. “ _See ya_.”

He vanished, but not before he glimpsed the volley of electricity slam into the dueling suit and skeleton. Bulls-eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hueso is a badass and you can't change my mind.


	16. Chapter 16

“Okay.” Donnie lowered his goggles over his eyes. “Prepare to commence M.O.M test 1.”

“System ready,” Shelldon reported.

Donnie maneuvered behind a blast shield. Before him was a tall, cyberpunk, monstrosity that looked like someone had taken a computer tower and turned it into the overlord mainframe set to usher in the Age of the Machine and herald the destruction of all organic life. Copper coils spiraled up and down its edges, and frequency bands jutted out in all directions. Sparks shed from various points, their embers fading before they could even hit the ground. Dim lights glowed like unblinking eyes across its surfaces, and it dominated the testing area with an intimidating, commanding presence.

Before it, on a table, sat a potato.

Donnie was eager to give the chemistry/mind over matter hypothesis a shot. Bishop had been strangely quiet since his last email, but being grounded (and _phoneless!_ ) left him with plenty of time to experiment with it himself. After some more thought on the subject, though, he figured that the equation also didn’t sound too different from programming a machine. A robot was normally made with an intent in mind. An AI program was usually created with a specific purpose. Machines all had roles to fill, even if it was telling other machines what to do. Perhaps, in a sense, that intent could be passed on to non-machines.

And so several wires, electrodes, and other tubes stretched between the potato and the rudimentary AI Donnie had built. He would have included some form of chemical relay as well, but did not have the tools for genetic editing yet. Besides, he ultimately didn’t want to limit this ability (should it work) to biological objects. So for now, AI it was.

Not that his brothers needed to find that out. A guy accidentally has one too many AI creations turn evil and suddenly he’s banned from experimenting with it for life?

The monolith shed some more sparks.

The goal was simple. Once activated, the tower would transmit coding on all frequencies into the potato. Since potatoes were surprisingly partial to electricity (the battery experiment was age-old news) he had his hopes up. Perhaps… something… in it would respond. He tried to keep the commanded intent as understandable as possible for the potato as well: every time someone touched it, it would change pigment.

Basic. But if it worked… if he could hook up that titanium brick next…

“On my mark. 3…2…1…” Donnie pulled a lever.

The tower hummed, warming up for a moment, then started shrieking like a banshee. More sparks cascaded. Lights flickered all over the lab. He watched the potato, unfazed, for a full minute before pulling the lever back up. The shrieking died.

“Transmission ended,” Shelldon announced.

“Geez, what was that?”

Donnie flailed and spun, surprised to see that Raph had entered his lab, rubbing his ears. Even more surprising was Mikey happily bouncing around behind him. Donnie flipped up his goggles.

“Uh, nothing! Just a little experiment, totally not reprogramming any AI commands, what brings you by?”

Raph narrowed his eyes at him. He pointed. “What’s with the potato?”

A small flame smoldered near one of the electrodes on it. “That is the subject of said reprogramming, but as I stated- WAIT DON’T TOUCH IT!”

He hopped around the blast shield and barely stopped Raph from poking it. Batting his brother away, he grabbed his tech bo and slowly approached the potato. His brothers watched with wide eyes. After a weighty moment, he tapped it.

The potato did nothing.

He slumped. “It didn’t work.”

“What were you trying to do?” Raph looked at the tower. “Are you messing with artificial intelligence again?”

“Me? Nooo. I mean, not _really,_ that’s not what this is-”

“Ohmigosh!” Mikey cried. “Donnie’s trying to bring that potato to life!”

“Don, we’ve _talked_ about this-”

“What the- I am doing nothing of the sort! Why are you even here?” He defensively moved in front of his experiment.

“To give this back,” Raph smirked and tossed him his phone. His sweet, precious phone. “Dad says you’re ungrounded now.”

“Gasp! Unbridled _joy_ ,” Donnie said, more out of reverence for the return of his phone than from being allowed to leave the lair. “I’ve missed you, lil buddy.” He turned it on.

They all cringed again as his phone began wailing with missed calls and texts. He could barely keep a hold of it as it jumped in his hands from the numerous vibrations.

“Somebody’s popular,” Raph commented.

“They’re all from April.” He scrolled through the messages, wide-eyed.

“Ohhh, yeah, she mentioned that she wanted you to text her after we left.”

Donnie stared at Mikey. “That was days ago.”

“Well, neither of us had our phones, it would have had to wait until-”

“Most of these are from last night.”

Raph shifted. “Is she okay? Why didn’t she call one of us?”

Donnie was already dialing. Judging from the content of her texts, he had a sinking feeling he knew the answer to the second question. “Do you think her school’s on lunch about now?” he asked as it rang.

“ _WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG?”_

He held the phone away from his ear as she shouted. That answered that. “Did _no one_ tell you I was grounded?”

_“THEN WHY DIDN’T YOU ANSWER YOUR PHONE?”_

“I didn’t have it!”

_“YOU didn’t have-? You know what, nevermind. Donnie, who in the WORLD have you been talking to? Why is my parents’ boss asking about you?”_

“Are you sure they were asking about _me_ or were they asking about-”

_“OTHELLO VON RYAN!”_

He put a hand over the speaker and chuckled nervously at his brothers’ quirked expressions. “A false moniker, a pseudonym, if you will.” Inwardly, though, he ran cold. Only a handful of very specific people knew him by that name, and none of them should-

“BROTHERS!”

The shout echoed from the main atrium. All heads whipped towards the voice of their missing member. Leo kept shouting, calling for them as they pounded out of the lab.

“What’s wrong?” Raph demanded, tonfas out.

Leo’s sword was drawn. He scrambled up to their level breathlessly. “It’s Hueso. Run of the Mill Pizza is under attack and it’s those _humans_ again, the BAI from the park!”

“What?” Donnie clutched his phone from whence April still hollered. “Are… are you sure?”

“Same uniforms, same _everything_. We gotta go!” He gripped his sword tight and prepared to make a portal.

“ _WHAT IS GOING ON OVER THERE?_ ” April thundered.

Raph took the phone from Donnie’s fingers and put it on speaker. “Sorry, April, but the BAI just attacked Run of the Mill. We about to go bust some heads.” His voice deepened into a growl.

_“Wait, wait, BAI? Like the Bureau of Anomalistic Investigations?”_

Donnie snatched his phone back. “You know about them??”

_“YEAH, that’s where MY PARENTS work.”_

“Wait, I’m sorry, your parents work with the humans from Central Park?” Leo turned.

_“What the- those guys? No way! They were like, military goons, the BAI’s just a bunch of quote unquote ‘anomalistic investigators’; conspiracy nerds and field researchers-”_

“Well those ‘nerdy researchers’ are taking prisoners!” he exploded.

_“That’s impossible!”_

Mikey eased closer to the phone amidst the arguing and gently prodded it. “Didn’t you say your parents were training recruits?”

_“Yeah…”_

“For what?”

Silence on the other end. Donnie’s gut clenched. This couldn’t be right, none of this was making any sense. His mind swirled. He swallowed thickly and forced himself to speak. “April, who’s your parents’ boss?”

“ _John Bishop._ ”

Beat.

Blank.

“Oh my god.”

April exploded into a rant about _trips overseas_ and _monster hunters_ and _knew they were way too okay with a ‘mutant cat’ story_ while Donnie just spiraled. John Bishop. Othello von Ryan. The BAI. April’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. _O’Neil_. Had they seen the emails? Were they at the park? What was even happening?

Raph grabbed the phone from him again. “April, where are your parents _right now?_ ”

“ _They’re- they’re at work._ ”

“Doing _what?_ ”

_“I don’t know, okay?”_ Her voice picked up an octave. _“It’s not like we don’t try to talk or mean to lie but some secrets need protecting!”_

“Yeah, but for how long?” Raph’s voice rumbled. “I knew those guys couldn’t be trusted!”

Donnie blanched. “Now, maybe it’s not all ‘those guys’. Maybe these are rogues in the organization, or a secret sect. April’s parents could be totally innocent, as well as some others.” _Bishop had better not be involved in this, but he’s the head, how could he not know what’s happening in his own bureau? Maybe it’s an underling. Maybe it’s off-duty ‘investigators’._ “Leo, what exactly did you see?”

“UGH. We don’t have time for this! Hueso and Frankie need us! Come with me and you’ll be able to see everything for yourselves.” He readied his sword once again.

Raph spoke rapidly. “April, meet us at Run of the Mill as quick as you can. Is Sunita with you? We’ll see you there.”

“ _Wait, I’m at school-!”_ He ended the call and thrust the phone back into Donnie’s hands. He fumbled with it for a moment, still processing his shock.

Leo impatiently tapped his foot. “They’re taking prisoners; I don’t know what more I need to say to get you guys to-”

“MOVE!” Raph commanded.

The portal opened and they jumped through.

* * *

Donnie wasn’t sure what to expect when they materialized, heart thudding. A force of armed humans waiting for them? Yokai still in the midst of battle? Fire? Lasers? Subdued troops ready to be interrogated? How did you find this place? Who is your leader? Was John Bishop involved?

Instead, the alley looked normal. Quiet.

Leo immediately stepped up to the graffiti wall and performed the hand sign, unusually serious. The doorway opened, and Donnie could have sworn that the skull looked sad. But that’s impossible because it’s just a mystic drawing…

“Alright, BAI, time to say _bye-bye!_ ”

The words echoed. The restaurant resembled the aftermath of a warmongering tornado. Furniture was knocked over and crushed. Dark burn marks scorched the walls. Food was splattered everywhere, except for one table where it still laid half-eaten on abandoned plates. Against one wall, a solitary chair sat trapped in a metal cage: an ominous sign of what had become of the patrons.

“They were _just here!_ ” Leo exclaimed.

“Then they must have just left.” Raph moved forward, stowing his tonfas. “Any idea where they could have gone?”

“Their headquarters? Secret base? Donnie?”

The softshell shook himself. “Right, well, that would depend if this is the entire operation or a rogue mission. Unless we want to accuse April’s parents of supervillainy, they wouldn’t have taken anyone to the main office where good members of the BAI could spot them.”

Raph growled. “Good members or no, bad apples spoil the bunch. We’re taking them down.”

“How did they even get in here?” Mikey asked, poking around the damage. “I thought humans couldn’t enter unaccompanied.”

“They had some kind of machine,” Leo said. “It was emitting something that made the whole wall glitch out.”

A cold rock dropped to Donnie’s stomach. His mouth went dry. “What kind of machine?”

“A loud one? How am I supposed to know what kind? I’ve never seen mystic magic just _stop_ working like that.”

_I will certainly have my people look into it._

Donnie’s head turned mechanically towards the doorway.

_Matter over mind… something overrode the intent of the mystic door… something mindless… like a machine… like a regular machine without AI… I was right … oh my god I was right._

_Bishop was the only one who knew._

The air left him like he was punched in the gut. Bishop knew. Bishop was the only one he’d told his theory to, Bishop was the one who had _asked him_ about anti-mystic devices in the first place! There was no getting around it; even as Donnie tried to look away, everywhere he turned revealed more of the carnage. Bishop had to be involved. He had to know about, if not be directly responsible for, for…

For that dent in the wall. For that chair in a cage. For that pizza slice on the floor. For every person missing.

Was _this_ why they were studying mystic energy? Was _this_ why he’d been so interested in exchanging emails, sharing notes? Had it all been just to once again use Don’s knowledge for something… something _evil_?

Like Big Mama. Like the Purple Dragons. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, _thrice-_

_Why do I have such… bad instincts?_

“Donnie? You okay?”

Raph was looking at him. He had no idea how long his internal crisis had taken. His head swam and he swallowed. “Yeah.” That sounded rough. He cleared his throat. “Yeah.” Better. He hardened his tone. “It was some kind of anti-mystic device.”

They looked surprised at him, except for Mikey who looked thoughtful. “Weren’t you asking Draxum about anti-mystic energy?”

“I was.” His voice was tight. Best to get this over with. “Because _John Bishop_ was asking about it.”

It took a beat, but Raph put it all together first. “That’s… you were talking with April’s parents’ boss? The _leader_ of the bad guys who did this? What the HELL, Donnie!”

He flinched at Raph’s swear but planted his feet. “YOU wanted to know more about the humans from Central Park; how do you think I found out about the Bureau of Anomalistic Investigations?”

“They were scooping up mutants! And now Yokai! _We’re_ mutants. Didn’t you stop to think how dangerous talking to this guy was?”

“Didn’t stop to think, _didn’t stop to think?_ ” Donnie could barely process the words before he exploded. “OF COURSE I stopped to think! I checked _every email_ for trackers and malware. I ran everything through my scrubber! I was _careful_. He doesn’t even know my name, your names, or that any of you should even exist!”

“But you kept talking to him?” Raph was incensed. “How long has this been going on?”

“A week, week and a half, _what does it matter?_ ” His cheeks burned and there was a loathsome pricking sensation against his eyes. He wished it would go away, he was _angry_ , damn it! “We didn’t know what they were up to at the time! I would have _never_ had I known-” _Really? This keeps happening, can you really promise that when you keep falling into this same trap? You suspected something was off from the very beginning and yet still engaged. Would knowing the truth truly have made a difference? You knew better, you KNEW better._

He forced the voice down. “And what about April’s parents, huh? Are we blaming them, too?”

“AGH. Enough!” Leo stepped between them. “We’re _supposed_ to be rescuing Hueso. We can sort out of the culpability details later.” He looked at Donnie. “So are we sticking with the ‘secret base’ theory or what?”

He flipped down his goggles to hide his face as he steeled himself. “No. Bishop’s all the way at the top. They’re headquartered on the Lower East Side.”

“Then we’ll start there.” Leo gripped his sword and Donnie and Raph moved behind him to portal. “Mikey!”

Mikey was bending over something. It was small and misshapen, but when he picked it up they all recognized it.

It was Hueso’s hat.

Raph growled. “They’re gonna pay.”

Donnie set his jaw, locking down those _stupid, pricking_ feelings further behind a wall, a wall made of titanium. Comforting titanium. Cold, angry, and vengeful titanium. “Yes.” His voice was flat, and appropriately emotionless. He pulled out his bo staff. “They are.”

* * *

Time was of the essence. As soon as the turtle disappeared Bishop knew they were in trouble. Hun’s poor shot hadn’t helped, but Bishop was nothing if he couldn’t fight through some electric shocks. Dismembering the animated skeleton had been the only way to stop him. The machete had been a good choice.

But his glasses spotted the circle of fading energy on the floor and it all came to him.

A portal _out_ meant a portal _in_ and it wouldn’t be long before the turtle returned with reinforcements.

“Bug out,” he ordered immediately, panting hard. “Get the cages loaded up and retreat to HQ. Hun,” he pulled aside as the remaining recruits jumped into action. “See that they’re delivered to Cocytus, then meet me up front.”

Hun nodded, and the simple gesture removed the knife-edge of urgency Bishop was running on. Compartmentalize. One can’t operate adequately under fear of what might come. The portal hadn’t immediately reopened. They had time – very little, likely, but still time.

The recruits scrambled to load up the cages – including one with two of their own – on the trucks and peel out. Bishop hopped in the truck where Chaplin had loaded the rudimentary anti-mystic device. There wasn’t time to shut it down, the scientist squawked, but Bishop was thankful for that. As short-ranged as it was, it would still offer them a level of protection as they fled (no, _withdrew_ _)_ to HQ with their cargo. He relaxed marginally as they revved out of the alley, the doorway snapping shut behind them.

Think.

There was no telling how big a force would arrive, but something about the portal was nagging him. He took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes, running through the last few minutes. Adrenaline, combat, realization, urgency, _familiarity_.

His eyes opened.

The fading signature of the portal exactly matched the spot he had seen in Central Park. But now he knew what caused it. And there was only one place he’d heard of a portal-making sword.

He tapped his watch and pulled up Donatello’s emails.

_A mystic sword will always open portals, but the destination depends on who’s wielding it._

This turtle had been there that night. Perhaps it was Donatello himself. Perhaps him and _all_ his brothers were there. His ‘theory’ was theory no longer.

A massive internet scrub. No pictures or traces of them anywhere. Donatello already aware of mystic energy. Miss Gunabi calling him a ‘freak’. Dear April having known them for _years_ despite the mutant outbreak only having been around for a number of months. Her parents never glimpsing them. And now one of them was wielding a mystic sword at the same restaurant her other ‘friend’ had retreated to?

These brothers were Yokai.

The attack force might just consist of the four of them, then. Not that Bishop would count on it, but it was a distinct possibility. And due to his communication with Donatello, they would probably be able to bring the fight to _him_.

Good.

It would be on his turf.

Plan.

Having already given Hun his orders, he pulled up the internal network. “Have the O’Neil’s summon the rest of the recruits on base and initiate lockdown protocol 6. If they have questions, it’s need to know.”

Green recruits he could borrow and order to attack a restaurant full of monsters; senior agents he could not. Especially if those senior agents risked encountering their daughter’s friend in battle and becoming compromised. The turtle wasn’t the googly Yokai girl he was expecting, but it still proved that he had made the right decision. Now, he needed to keep them _exactly_ where he could monitor them. Lockdown 6 could get… tricky.

It was a good thing he had already been studying his enemies.

He opened the file the Cherubim had sent him on the brothers and started reading.

Act.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See if you can spot the dialogue from 2003 :)

The turtles crouched on the roof of a warehouse across the street, having portaled more in the general area. The Bureau of Anomalistic Investigations stood dark between more large warehouses on the bank of the East River. The street was quiet with the only sounds coming from the waves knocking against the shore.

Raph glared at the headquarters. As far as he was concerned, everyone in it had done wrong kidnapping their friends (and non-friends, but at least not enemies). He didn’t know yet what to make of April’s parents, and while he hoped they were innocent Donnie’s admission about John Bishop certainly diminished the odds of that.

_But if they are innocent, how many others are innocent like them?_

They could find that out later. _After_ they rescued Hueso, Mrs. Nubbins, and the rest.

Beside him, Leo was the most focused Raph had ever seen him. No jokes and no puns, which unnerved Raph slightly. This was a serious mission, yes, but it was a serious thing that Leo treated it so seriously. He knew his brother was closest to Hueso, and had _been_ there during the attack, but still.

To his right, Mikey typed an update to April. Part of Raph knew it was a little unfair to ask her to ditch school, but another part argued that this was way more important than any human education classes. Her parents were directly involved, and Sunita’s dad was kidnapped, too. They should be here, but he also didn’t want to wait on them. Things were too urgent for that.

Beyond Mikey, Donnie still had his goggles over his face. Raph couldn’t tell what was going through his head as he scrutinized the building. The dramatic reveal left him reeling, and while a part of him was mad that his brother had been communicating with Bishop, he was _more_ mad that _Bishop_ had been talking with his brother. What kind of guy emails a _fourteen-year-old?_

But Donnie was smart. Donnie said he’d been careful. If Bishop didn’t even know their names then he certainly didn’t know their ages. And beneath all his anger and rage and fear he could admit that none of it would do them any good. His brother had to be feeling the sting of betrayal worse than any of them, even if he was hiding it behind that wall of his. He just couldn’t tell.

“Donnie? What’s the word?”

“It appears to be heavily fortified.” His brother’s voice was inflectionless. Raph hoped it was just because he was deep in analysis mode. “There are motion sensors and booby traps all along the perimeter, the windows are all barred and armed, and even the vents seem rigged with alerts.” He fiddled with his goggles. “I’m also detecting a large group of people by the main entrance, fitted with several forms of hardware.”

“Weapons?” Mikey asked.

“Most likely.”

Leo whistled. “These guys are paranoid.”

“They should be, cuz we’re something else.” Raph clenched his fists and smirked. _Remember, you are a nightmare for_ nightmares _to deal with._ “Any weak spots, Donnie?”

“Well,” he hesitated. “There is an air shaft on the roof that isn’t armed. It could be a malfunction.”

“We’ll take it.” Raph stood up. “Once we’re inside, stealth mode until we find everyone. Then, we smash our way out the nearest exit and run.”

Donnie frowned. “That doesn’t sound like the best solution.”

“It’s a rescue mission,” Leo replied. “Once everyone’s safe we can work out how to take down the BAI as a whole.”

“Right. Mad Dogs, ahoy!”

Since the street was too wide to jump, everyone turned to Donnie. The turtle robotically tapped his wristband. The repaired rotors extended from his hover shell and revved up. “Everyone hop on.”

Despite the weight and slow climb, he waited until they were close to the unarmed air shaft before setting them all on the roof. No alarms blared anywhere when they landed, so they crowded around and pulled off the grate.

Raph made sure he went first. They would be single file in this shaft, and if anything nasty came at them through the vents he would take the brunt of it as well as shield them with his girth. It was a squeeze for him, but he fit. The shaft went straight down, so he braced his limbs on the sides and started easing forward. Light feet landed on the back of his shell and he knew his brothers, much ganglier, were at least prevented from falling straight down it because of him, as well.

He almost slipped when his hand went through an open space instead of metal siding. A side vent. After some maneuvering, he managed to get below the vent and his brothers scrambled through. Donnie stuck his tech bo out and helped haul him up.

“Great, we’re in,” he panted. It was dark ahead, but he could discern his brothers’ tell-tale fidgets and breathing through the echoing vent. Mikey was in front, followed by Leo then Donnie then him. He didn’t like being in the back this time, but then figured if anything came after them from behind in the vents he could still absorb it. He was protecting them from one end, at least.

A blue light lit up before him from Donnie’s wristband, casting his brother’s face in horrific shadows. “These vents are part of the central air system, so they should cover the entire complex. We _shouldn’t_ run into any alarms now; most of the sensors were right around the outside walls. But I suggest exercising caution before we drop into any rooms.”

“Got it,” Mikey whispered. Donnie doused his light and they started crawling forward.

A few minutes in, Raph heard Leo shift. “Do any of you feel that?”

He paused, concentrating. In the stillness, he heard a very low hum that seemed to come from all around them. It didn’t waver or increase; it was simply there. And since Leo brought it up, he realized he could feel minute vibrations also thrumming through the vent. “I hear something, but I don’t know what it is.”

“Power.” Donnie laid a hand on the wall. “But what could it possibly be connected to? Normal lighting doesn’t require this much wiring, and for us to feel the output alone-”

“Hey guys, I see some light up ahead.” Mikey twisted to look back over his shoulder. “I think we’re coming up on some rooms.”

“Alright everyone, pipe down. Remember: _stealth mode_.”

They all fell silent and continued crawling.

* * *

It was working perfectly.

Bishop watched from his watch as the four insurgents entered the air shaft. In a half minute they should reach the first side vent. In another three they should find the first exit impassable. Provided they moved at a constant speed, they would arrive where Bishop wanted them in ten minutes.

Lockdown 6 was the perfect funnel. A large force might be able to break through the perimeter defenses, but would be met with the bulk of the BAI forces at the entrances. Or, if they wanted to bypass that obvious fight, they could attempt to sneak in. A conveniently ‘malfunctioning’ air shaft sensor, and added bars placed across the first several vent grates should ferret the smaller, single-file task force like rats through a maze directly to where he and Hun awaited now.

The training room they were set up in had been quickly transformed. An array of traps were now organized around the center of the room, directly below the first ceiling vent conveniently unbarred and easy to open. Should those fail, there were backups. Should _those_ fail, that’s why he and Hun were here. The door was locked and laser-protected, but no one would be getting out without his direct approval.

Nine minutes to go.

He pulled up the last image from the rooftop camera and studied it some more. It was his first confirmed visual examination of these Yokai, and he was delighted to see that they were color coded. Combined with the Cherubim file, he was pretty certain he could now tell them apart.

His lenses examined the fuzzy traces of mystic energy around each of the brothers. Leonardo carried the portal sword, that much was clear. He could not easily identify Michelangelo’s weapon, but it seemed to have something to do with fire. That mystic streak in the sky in Central Park might have been him. Raphael’s weapons were deceptively powerful, judging by the intensity of the energy they held. Even disarmed, he would be a force to reckon with. His size and natural armor alone would be brutal to take on.

Good thing he had Hun.

Donatello didn’t appear to have mystic energy around him, save for a small speck near his head. That would be a problem. Whatever weapons and other gear the scientist had clearly packed with him would still be functional. They would have to move fast.

Five minutes.

Bishop doused everything on his watch and centered himself. He heard Hun rolling through a series of stretches, joints popping periodically. His infinity scarf was tucked in a high collar so that no one could grab it should things come down to hand to hand combat. Automatically, Bishop reached down and rubbed his calf, but between the good weather and precautionary painkiller it felt fine. He focused on evening out his breathing, clearing his mind.

Two minutes.

Faint shuffling echoed through the vent. One could only be so quiet scooting through a metallic tube. He and Hun backed into the room’s blindspot as the shuffling got closer. The vent grate squeaked softly as someone unscrewed it.

Showtime.

The ceiling of the training room was two floors up, courtesy of the second-floor viewing window where Bishop had watched the recruits on their first day. That meant a two-story free fall to the mats below. A drop completely at the mercy of gravity; unable to move anywhere but _down_.

A turtle dropped down, and the walls lit up.

“Darts!” cried Michelangelo, and he promptly pulled into his shell.

The darts pinged off the falling carapace, but were unable to penetrate it. It hit the floor hard and bounced, rolling away from the line of fire. Two, three more shells dropped from the ceiling, also targeted by the ineffective guns.

A shame. It would have worked brilliantly had they been any other species.

Since there were no dart guns lining the last few feet of the walls (it would be stupid to get hit themselves), the turtles began popping out of their shells. He and Hun stepped into view, each bringing up a stun gun already crackling with energy.

“Hello, turtles,” he said. “It’s about time we met.”

* * *

Of _course_ there were people in the room.

One wore a suit with a long coat, one… Donnie guessed it was _like_ a suit, of sorts, it was certainly snazzy (though he would have foregone the awkward scarf, himself) but the bigger guy did have a scar on his face, which meant, _great_ , these were mostly likely the agents who scooped up Repo’s cat. As if he needed more salt in the wound. He forced the feeling down back behind his wall and studied their opponents. They weren’t carrying typical guns, but if he had to guess the amperes those sparky bois packed he’d say it’d be enough to take down any one of them with a single shot. Maybe two for Raph.

The room itself was spacious and truthfully that was a softer landing than expected. The floor was covered in mats, some lockers lined a wall to the left, a solitary door stood to the right _(undefended by manpower, probably rigged with something, then)_ and judging by the empty benches this had to be some type of exercise or training room. The only weapons/equipment in it, however, were either lining the walls or being pointed at them. The room had been deliberately cleared. This was a trap from the beginning.

He hoped Raph was noticing this, but his brother was likely focusing on the profile-matching cat-nappers. “Alright, you!” There it was. “Tell us where all the people you took are, and you’ll walk out of here!”

“Technically, Mrs. Nubbins was and is not a person,” he couldn’t help but correct.

“And the cat!”

“Bold, Raphael,” the suit said. His voice was smooth, and light glinted off a pair of glasses on his nose. “But presumptuous.”

Wait. Did he just say Raphael?

Already, Leo was looking at him. “I thought you said they didn’t know our names-”

“They shouldn’t!” he snarled, gripping his tech bo tighter. “So _don’t use them_.”

The suit laughed. “I know _all_ your names, Leonardo. And much, much more.”

Had to be a bluff. Just… had to be. But to what degree? He was already using their names, how in the world had they figured those out?

He had been _careful…_

“And yet, we know nothing about you, not even your name.” Leo said, cultivating that air of careless boredom that worked for him so well. He propped his sword on his shoulder.

“How rude is that?” Mikey accused.

“Very well, Michelangelo.” The agent’s voice hardened, and he raised the stun gun. He addressed each of the turtles as he spoke. “When you scream my name… pleading to make the pain stop… begging for mercy…” The agent turned and his eyes bore right into Donnie. “You may call me _Bishop_.”

That… CREEP.

A ball of electricity exploded at them. They jumped, Mikey and Raph almost directly into the path of a follow-up shot by the scarred man.

“We have to take out those guns or we’re sitting ducks!” Raph shouted.

“On it!” Mikey wound up his kusari-fundo. “Cowabunga!”

He launched it across the room…

… and it clattered lifelessly to the floor.

Did that just happen? That did just happen. “Uhhh, guys?”

Raph tackled the youngest out of the way from another electric volley. He smashed his tonfas together, but no red sparks appeared.

“It’s that anti-mystic device!” Leo shouted, twisting in a way that shouldn’t be possible to avoid two more shots. “Find it!”

“What’s it look like?”

“Tall, blobby, evil!”

“There’s not exactly anywhere to hide it!” Donnie called. Maybe in the lockers, but then why take the trouble of hiding a machine like that? It couldn’t be for defense, and it had to run on _something,_ maybe there was a battery pack or a cord that…

There was power in the walls.

His eyes widened.

Not one machine. It was probably the entire building. Oh, _shell_.

They needed to get out of here.

Portal, power-smash, and fire spirit down. Stun guns from the opposite end of the room. Electricity writhed constantly around those barrels, that had to be a safety hazard. What about stray shocks? What about a short out?

He jumped and rebounded off the wall as another ball of energy came at him. Hmm, short out. Water. Where to find a source of water? He looked up.

Sprinkler system. Two stories up. No flying, the dart cannons were still armed. Need to trigger it, then. Fire spirit still down. Alternate source of fire needed. He grinned.

“I got this, brothers!” He twirled his tech bo, one end catching an electric ball and rebounding it _back_ on the spin. The agents ducked out of the way. It gave him just enough time to morph the bo into its flamethrower function.

He could angle it up towards the sprinklers. Or he could _make that parental-aged adult run from his vengeful FIRE_.

“Taste my wrath, LIAR!” he yelled, and with a maniacal cackle released a stream of flames across the room. He could barely make out their shadowy forms leaping and rolling away from him, and he didn’t let up until the sprinklers went off.

His bo transformed back into its standard shape. He tapped it on the ground and smirked. The agents couldn’t get rid of the stun guns fast enough, throwing them into a corner where they continued to spark dangerously. His brothers drifted a little closer to him to watch, heedless of the indoor rain. The sprinklers shut off and the disarmed men shifted to face them.

“Oh, turtles.” Bishop took a moment to wipe his glasses clean. He pushed them slowly and deliberately back on his face as he looked at them. “You just made things so much harder on yourselves.”

The scarred man ripped a locker off the wall and _threw_ it.

Donnie gaped as it caught Raph full in the front. The move made him take his eyes off Bishop, though, and a pair of feet slammed into his chest before he could blink. He was on his back and gasping before he could even register that Bishop had moved. The agent sprang off of him, further driving the air from his lungs, and landed in a roll.

When he popped back to his feet, he was holding one end of Mikey’s inert kusari-fundo.

Bishop tugged hard on the chain, pulling Mikey off balance, and Donnie could only watch as the weighted, spiked ball suddenly sailed towards his brother’s head.

_Clang!_

Leo deflected the ball with his sword. “Now, how about you get your own weapon, hm?” He moved in, sword swinging, Bishop stepping evasively, but then Donnie was having trouble seeing their darkening forms because he still couldn’t _breathe, c’mon, lungs, work!_

They seized and he gasped, desperately sucking in air. His fingers twitched and brushed against metal. His tech bo was still close. He grabbed it and used it to force himself up, rubbing his plastron where the kick had landed. Okay, Bishop was _fast_. And clearly not holding back. He struggled not to slip on the wet mats.

He raised his head just in time to see the agent swing a machete ( _where did THAT come from?_ ) forcing Leo to duck down. He kneed him in face. Leo stumbled back, holding his nose, and Donnie started to move in but now _that machete was coming right for him did he just throw it like that?_ He barely managed to deflect it with his bo in time. The blade stuck to the wall underneath a dart cannon.

Mikey was also moving in to help Leo. He jumped, just high enough that a dart cannon fired, but was already arcing back down before it could hit him.

With a twist of a forearm and a cry from Leo Bishop took his sword. No! Mikey was coming down on a blade.

Donnie threw his bo in a spin, no time to even arm the rockets and still too breathless to warn his brother. It caught Mikey in the plastron, his own chest throbbing sympathetically, but it knocked him away from Bishop’s counterstrike. He caught up to Leo.

Two unarmed turtles, agent with a sword. Fast agent, with who knew how many other weapons hiding on him.

Or hiding on _them._

Leo barely glanced at him, thinking the same thing. They reached into their belts and let the shuriken fly.

Bishop dropped the sword and flipped and rolled through a series of evasive maneuvers, narrowly avoiding the ninja stars. He wound up by the back wall, poised freely between the now-embedded shuriken. Donnie and Leo moved forward, then lurched back as Raph cut across them.

He and the scarred man traded blows with the locker, using it as both a weapon and a shield. It was dented straight down the middle, curving inwards like someone had tried to fold it in half. The scarred giant kicked it, and Raph stopped it with his tonfas. Water droplets flung everywhere with each hit. It didn’t look like either was gaining any ground.

Then they passed and suddenly Leo and Donnie’s shurikens were flying _back_ at them.

Donnie ducked, protecting his head. One of them grazed his elbow pad and tore it open.

“Not bad,” Bishop commented, plucking the stars from the wall. “But let’s wrap this up, shall we?”

“I couldn’t agree more!” Leo called, reclaiming his sword and ducking some shuriken. “It’s four against two, so if you want a break, just let us know!”

“I never play the odds. Hun!”

The scarred man shifted, and instead of punching the locker back into Raph he knocked it towards Bishop. The agent leapt up, higher than he should have for an average human, and grabbed hold of a dart cannon above him. He kicked the incoming locker with both feet and it rebounded like a pinball directly into Leo.

“Leo!” Donnie cried as it flattened his brother. He shoved the beaten metal off of him. “Can you hear me?”

“Get the number on that truck, wouldja?” he murmured sleepily.

“Cowabunga!”

Donnie turned sharply as Mikey dropped down from where he had been making his way along the wall of dart cannons onto Bishop. The agent grabbed his ankle and spun, quickly releasing and sending him flying into Hun’s fight. The brawling giant caught him with a fist and held him up. Mikey squealed and pulled into his shell as Raph’s incoming punch came right at him. The oldest brother barely diverted it in time, giving Hun an opening to punch him in the gut… with Mikey.

“No!”

Donnie sprang at them, wishing he knew where his bo landed, but knowing he didn’t have time to look for it. He wrapped himself around Hun’s fist as he drew it back and bit down.

The giant convulsed and opened his hand, dropping Mikey. He seemed to be caught in a silent scream. Hun flung him to the ground and brought his fists up to confront another one of Raph’s punches. The force of their blows made the ground shake.

Donnie crawled over to Mikey and shook the shell. “Mikey, you okay?”

His brother’s limbs popped out but fell limp. His pupils were blown and unfocused. No amount of cheek slapping made him coherent. Down. Donnie quickly pushed him away from the fight and turned to help Raph.

Just in time to see Hun grand slam him into the ground.

“Raph!”

It didn’t make sense. The scene couldn’t be real. No one could take Raph down, no one could beat his head into the ground like that, no one could be that unrelenting, oh god, his brother was barely _moving_ he needed _help_ , he was two steps away, _I’m coming brother!_

Something familiar tripped him. He sprawled, twisted, and saw Bishop looming above him.

“Goodnight, _Donatello_.”

The tech bo cracked against the side of his head.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, quick life update: this evening one of my best friends was placed in a medically-induced coma following complications from a surgery. I've been coordinating updates from her father with her other friends. As such, I can't really do much other than post this chapter and jet. I love everyone's reviews and comments (you're all so kind!) but I probably won't be able to respond to anyone for the next week or so. The next chapter might be a little longer in posting, too. Thank you for your understanding, and if any of you pray, please pray for us. Thank you.

April braked too hard on the bike and they pitched forward, Sunita tumbling off the handlebars where she had been balanced. “We’re here!”

Breathless, tired, the girls ran forward in the alley. Skipping school hadn’t even been a question. Biking all the way to Run of the Mill had been the struggle, especially with two people (well, one human and one googlyschmootz, but it wasn’t like Sunita could deactivate her cloaking brooch in the daylight). They were here now, and April hoped that they weren’t too late.

Sunita opened the door and they jumped through.

“Oh, we _are_ too late!” April cried.

The devastation was… sickening. It had been quite a battle. Sunita’s hands clasped over her mouth and her eyes went huge.

“Pops?” she called nervously. “Anyone?”

“Guys?” April yelled. She fumbled for her phone. There was a missed text from Mikey explaining that they were heading for the BAI headquarters. Her heart jumped to her throat.

Her parents.

The guys.

Were her parents seriously involved in _this_?

Were the guys about to get involved with her _parents?_

Wait, no, that sounded wrong.

“Pops?” Sunita shouted again, growing more distraught.

April spun and gripped her shoulders. “He’s not here, Sunita. But wherever he is, the guys have gone after him.”

Sunita nodded, unshed tears shining in her eyes. “And we’re going after them, too, right?”

April bit her lip. “My parents…” Wait. Her _parents._

“Let me call my dad first. That way we’ll know what the bureau is doing right now, and how we can help.”

“Is he allowed to take calls at work?” Sunita questioned, calming down some.

“My dad _always_ answers the phone, whether it’s a life-threatening situation or not.” She shuddered for a moment as she dialed. He had better not be in the bathroom again.

But it was a risk she needed to take. They needed to know what was happening. And if the guys were sneaking into BAI HQ then she couldn’t risk calling them and giving away their location with the ring of a cell phone.

“Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up…”

“ _Hello?”_

“Dad!” Relief flooded her.

“ _April? Is everything okay?”_ Oh, he sounded serious. Well, she was supposed to be in school right now. Shoot, what was she supposed to say?

“Yes! Well, not really. Look, are you busy right now? In the middle of something?”

“ _Well…_ ” She heard some kind of tone followed by an automated voice in the background. “ _We’re actually on lockdown right now, sweetie. It’s not a great time.”_

Her gut clenched. “Lockdown? Is everything okay?”

_“We’re fine, don’t worry, just a precaution, but listen, I can’t really talk unless it’s an emergency-”_

“Then just tell me where you’ve been today!” she blurted.

_“What?”_

“Look, something happened somewhere and it’s got me all worried, so please just tell me where you and Mom have been today.” She held her breath.

There was a weighty silence, but when her dad spoke he only sounded gently confused. “ _Your mother and I have been at the base all day._ ”

“Oh, thank god,” she sagged. She jerked as an alarm sounded through the phone. “What was that?”

_“It’s… we’ll be fine, April, but I really have to go. Love you.”_

“Love you, too!”

_“Fall in!”_

Click.

Deep breath. In. Out.

“OHMYGOSHWHYISTHEBASEONLOCKDOWNI’MSOGLADMYPARENTSWEREN’TINVOLVEDINTHEATTACKBUTWHATISHAPPENINGOVERTHEREHAVETHEGUYSBEENCAPTUREDWHATWASTHATALARMISMYDADLEADINGANARMYWHATTHEHECKWHATTHEHECKWHATTHEHECK-!”

Sunita grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Stop it! We have to think clearly!”

April gasped and nodded. “Right, you’re right, thank you. Okay.” She straightened her shoulders.

“The guys have gone to the base, the very base which is apparently on lockdown, which means either they got caught (likely) or triggered something rescuing your pops and the others and are on the run. In any sense, they need backup.”

“Us!”

“But not _just_ us.” April furrowed her brow. If there was a battle raging she wanted nothing more than to head right over and get in the thick of it. But the bureau unnerved her, and she _could not_ run into her parents. That would be disastrous. This was bigger than just the two of them.

“We need to swing by the lair and get Splints. I have a feeling we’ll need him.”

* * *

Ow.

He was aware of shifting around him, and other moans and groans. He twitched, working up the energy to move, but found it difficult. Why was the floor so uneven?

Donnie’s eyes snapped open.

They were in a cage. It had no discernable door or latch, but the metallic bars looked suspiciously concentric, like they could lengthen or collapse their dimensions. There was no real floor besides the one the cage rested on, and judging by an empty cart nearby they had just been dumped on it. Donnie looked over his brothers and was relieved to see that no one’s hands or feet had gotten caught under the bars.

They all looked the worse for wear. Mikey had the least bruises but was still clearly dazed, Leo looked like he had gotten flattened by something (which, oh yeah, he _did_ ) and Raph was a black and blue mess. They were all conscious, though, stirring weakly in the dim lighting.

Wait. Why was the light so dim?

Donnie looked around quickly, cringing as his head spun for a moment. Only one light came from a door ahead of them. Directly behind them was another door. The room itself looked like somebody’s office shut down after hours. It was smaller than the training room, a desk stood on one side, and a third door stood across from it. When his eyes fell across the empty cart once again it clicked.

They were being moved.

But not taking the halls, for some reason.

“You are more resilient than expected.”

They all jumped at the low voice. Bishop emerged from the shadows. He stopped a couple feet away from the cage and regarded them, totally at ease. “I was not expecting any of you to awaken so soon.”

“We’re tougher ‘n we look,” Raph slurred. His brother sat up and winced.

“Apparently.”

Leo leaned over and draped an arm out of the cage. “So, while we’re all in the mood of doing the unexpected, how about letting us out of here?”

The light glinted off his glasses as Bishop turned his head, making his expression even more unreadable. “An entertaining thought. But no.”

Donnie pushed himself up to his knees, headache pounding for a moment before receding. The big man, Hun, was nowhere in sight, and neither were their weapons. He patted himself over. Phone, wallet, shuriken gone. His wristband and goggles were also missing. His brothers were probably similarly divested of any and all tech, which meant, unfortunately, that their panic buttons were gone. His battle shell was still attached to him, thank goodness, likely because they couldn’t figure out how to remove it. Its steely, comforting weight helped calm him some more as he absorbed their predicament.

“Alright, then.” Raph’s voice sounded a bit clearer. “Tell us why you’re kidnapping mutants.”

“And Yokai!” Mikey contributed.

Bishop smirked. “You’ll find out for yourselves soon enough.”

The door under the light opened and Hun walked in, empty-handed. He regarded the turtles for a moment with narrow eyes, then turned and signed something to Bishop. Donnie squinted blearily at the hand motions but was still too dizzy to catch everything. Weapons… he had dropped off their weapons somewhere?

“Perfect.”

Leo raised his hand. “You mind letting us in on what’s so perfect?”

“Merely that there have been no other intrusions.” That was a lie. Well, actually maybe it wasn’t, but that wasn’t what they had discussed, from what Donnie could tell. “No one is coming to rescue you.”

“That’s not true, someone is totally going to come rescue us!” Mikey retorted.

“Yeah, or we’ll bust out of here and rescue ourselves!” Raph growled.

“I highly doubt it,” the agent said dryly. “That cage is made of reinforced titanium. I’m sure your resident scientist could tell you more about what that means.”

Bishop’s reflective gaze fell on him and he burned all over with renewed hatred. How dare he use his favorite element to ensnare them! He smothered the resurgent sting of betrayal with more loathing for the perpetrator. His wall had plenty of anger from which to draw.

“They’ve heard me espouse about titanium often enough.” He gripped a bar of the cage. “Why don’t you get to the part already where you tell us what your plans are?” 

Instead of rising to the bait, the agent merely pulled something familiar out of his coat. Donnie’s grip tightened. It was his goggles.

“You know, Donatello, it doesn’t surprise me anymore that you refused to meet with me. Although I do find it curious that one such as yourself is so interested in science.”

“ _Really_?” Leo’s jaw dropped.

Bishop ignored him as he held the goggles up to the light, distantly peering through them. “A simple, yet effective design. Not as sleek as my own, but, I am not running a comparison scan against a power crystal.” He tapped his own lenses.

“ _Okay,_ then-” Donnie tried to stand, incensed, but the low cage prevented it, so he got to his knees instead “-if you have your own tech then give me back mine!”

Bishop gave a wry smile, and Hun seemed to chuckle despite the utter lack of sound. “You are _well_ aware of the BAI’s mission to study mystic energy.” He tucked the goggles back in his coat. “These are a fine pair that will come in handy for our scientists in that regard. You should be proud. Thank you.”

He ground his teeth, trying not let the twisted praise sting him through his wall. “Do _not_ thank me, I’m not giving them to you. You can’t flatter me anymore.”

“No? A shame. Despite your true nature, your technological achievements are truly something to behold.” Bishop started walking closer. “The mech, the scrub, the staff, the goggles…” He stopped before the cage and stared down at him. “And I’m sure your pack hides many more surprises.”

Donnie stared defiantly back.

Bishop turned away from him towards Hun. “Remove it.”

What?

The cage suddenly whirred to life with rapid clicks and hums. They all cried out as more metal bars unspooled from the top, slamming down and separating him from them. Donnie scrambled back against the outer wall of his smaller portion of the cage, only to jerk forward as he felt those bars move. They retracted up, offering the most unappealing exit ever as Hun moved forward, dominating the frame. He pressed back against the inner cage, hearing his brothers shouting, and felt Mikey find and squeeze his hand as Hun reached in.

He grabbed the back of his battle shell and tossed him out into the room.

Donnie rolled a couple times – the guy had a good arm and he was light – but managed to come out of it on his feet. His back was to the door with the light. His brothers were still in the cage, Hun now between them. Bishop sat down on the edge of the desk, stowing some kind of remote in his pocket. He seemed comfortable, like he was settling in to watch a show.

Hun cracked his knuckles.

Maybe he was.

Donnie glanced around, then raised his hands and settled into a fighting stance.

His bo would sure be nice.

“Donnie, listen.” Raph’s face was pressed against the cage bars and _sheesh_ it was still a mess; he didn’t need the reminder that not even _Raph_ could take this guy. “It’s not a fair fight-”

“Gee, you don’t think I know that?” He started stepping to the side as Hun approached.

“So what I’m saying is _you don’t have to fight him_.”

“Again, you don’t think I know that?” He glanced up, trying to gauge the height of the ceiling.

Because Bishop was right, he _did_ still have a few surprises.

Hun charged at him, arms outstretched, and he ducked low. He spun to the side as his foe turned, reaching for him again. He bobbed and weaved, quick on his feet. He was lucky that Hun was only trying to grab him as opposed to beating his head into the ground. The memory of what happened to Raph made him falter for a moment, and he narrowly avoided another grab.

His evasive dance continued, twirling them both around the room. If he kept it up long enough could he tire out the agent? He glimpsed his brothers watching with wide eyes from the cage. There probably wasn’t time. And Bishop was still watching from the desk as they circled each other. No doubt if he _did_ manage to somehow take Hun out the treacherous agent would just take his place. He just needed a wide enough opening to play his card… the only card he had.

Hun lunged at him again, and _there!_ He was expecting him to go low!

The rotors snapped out of his hover shell.

Donnie jumped in the air as they revved to life. “Ha-ha!” He arced over the giant, rising towards freedom, or at least reprieve, triumphant that-

_SLAM._

Something had his leg. He was on the floor. At the docks. “NO!” Stars obscured his vision. His head had smacked the ground. The rotors screamed in agony. Something tugged them.

He scrabbled at the floor. Clawed for purchase. Something yanked once, twice, _kept yanking_ behind him. Not shredding. Pulling. Hun heaved at the rotors, but they were attached to his battle shell. Each yank lifted him up from the damnably smooth floor. Dragged him backwards. His shoulders protested. Back hurt. It was like he was a ragdoll. He stopped scrabbling for a hold that wasn’t there and protected his head. Slam and yank.

Leo’s voice broke. “For God’s sake, Donnie, just give it to him!”

“N-no!” he shouted. “Do you know how _long-”_ Slam! “-I- I’ve had to-” Yank!

_Crack!_

Something clattered in his field of vision. Donnie’s eyes stung with that awful pricking again as he saw his rotors in a heap, broken at the joints. Ripped wires hung lifelessly from the breaks. Despite the dents they sparkled, still scrubbed thoroughly clean of corpse-flower juice. His face twisted. His wall began to crumble. That would take… so many hours to fix. Again. And again and again. His breath hitched.

Having torn off his handle, Hun tried a different approach. He suddenly flipped him on his back and sat on his legs. It was like Donnie could read his mind. He was going for the shoulder clamps.

Anger surged.

No way was he going to let him find the release button! Striking quickly, he jabbed the giant right in the scarf.

Hun reared back, mouth opening and closing in soundless gasps. He clutched at his throat, and Donnie grinned maliciously at the hit. A score! Can’t get to the clamps without leaving yourself open to atta-

His head snapped to the right.

Stars again, but this time his ears were ringing. His head lolled, dazed. Everything was loud, swimming… wait. That wasn’t just his ears ringing. His brothers were shouting and there was the reverb of an actual clang. Bishop had even jumped to his feet, but he wasn’t looking at him, he was looking at the cage…

Raph had dented the cage.

Raph had _dented_ the cage.

He blinked dumbly at the scene, trying to make sense of how his brother could do something like that to his favorite metal of all things, but one of the bars was definitively bent outwards. Raph was flexing his hand – there had to be broken fingers or something, the _dum-dum punched titanium_ – but he looked ready to do it again. Why was he gonna do it again?

Pain in his shoulders brought him back to his own situation. His battle shell! He flailed, trying to coordinate his jelly arms but, the world was spinning, and he was so tired suddenly…

Two more cracks resounded as the shoulder clamps broke. Hun apparently skipped the entire idea of a release button. He struggled one last time as Hun pulled him forward by his wrists, sitting him up, but there was no room for him to _move._ He bit back a whimper as his battle shell was peeled off of him, closing his eyes. That was it. They… they won.

Hun released him and rose, handing the ripped shell to Bishop. Donnie huddled on the floor, all energy gone. The room felt cold. His real shell prickled. He wanted to be angry but no longer had the strength. He just hurt. He just wanted to go home and sleep and cr…

“…it will still be valuable to study.” Bishop turned to his brothers and examined the cage. “Though warped, it remains structurally uncompromised. You accomplished nothing.”

“Look, you got what you wanted,” Leo’s voice cut through the numbing fog. “Now, just give him back and let’s move on.”

“Strangely agreed.”

Someone pulled him up by the arm and walked him back to the dented cage. It hummed and clicked again, this time accompanied by a grinding noise. _Should check that out,_ he thought absently. Or mumbled. It was hard to tell which. He curled up once inside.

Mikey’s gentle voice drifted through to him. “Donnie?” His hand touched him, but he withdrew.

“Don’t.”

He just wanted to be alone.

“I’m fine.”

He just wanted everything to go away.

“Leave me alone.”

He felt the hand leave him, then he sank into the fuzzy haze that was calling him.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the support with my friend, even though I haven't been able to respond to everyone I greatly appreciate it. I have the best news to report: she woke up yesterday! She's been passing all of her cognitive tests so far, too, which is an extremely good sign. It's going to be a long recovery, no doubt, but I do believe we're out of the woods and I'm so thankful for everyone's prayers and well wishes. Thank you, thank you!
> 
> Now, in the spirit of getting back into the swing of things: enjoy :)

Raph gripped the cage bars, ignoring how the fingers in his right hand screamed as he did so. “You’re gonna regret taking away Donnie’s battle shell,” he threatened. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

“ _And_ you’ll have to pay for breaking it,” Leo informed the agent. “We’ll take it in the form of high-grade titanium and immediate release.”

“Your threats mean nothing when I know they’re empty.” Bishop passed the two pieces of the battle shell back to Hun. “Your mystic powers do not work here, and I _will_ be keeping any and all Yokai engineering that I come across.”

Raph and Leo exchanged glances. “Say what?”

“You need not scoff. I am familiar with what limited-”

“Wait, no, back up to the part about _Yokai_ engineering,” Leo said. “Donnie built that stuff with his own two hands.”

“Of course,” Bishop agreed, though puzzlement was starting to creep onto his features.

Raph looked behind him where Mikey was crouched next to their techy brother, but Donnie was still slumped against the side of the cage, eyes closed. He glanced back at Bishop.

“So… you can give it back because it’s not Yokai tech.”

“Why do you insist on upholding a pretense?” Bishop muttered. “I know who you are, and I will deal with you accordingly.”

“Wait, you think we’re Yokai?” It clicked for Raph. “Is that what all this is about?”

“But we’re not!” Mikey cried. “We’re mutants.”

Bishop narrowed his eyes. “Please,” he dismissed. “I happen to know you have been in your current forms far longer than the mutant outbreak has persisted.”

“But it’s true,” Raph said. “We were mutated as babies by Baron Draxum.”

Both agents stopped moving. It was eerie, as if some deity had simply pressed ‘pause’ and frozen them both in place. It was uncertain if they even breathed. The sudden silence made even Donnie blearily raise his head. Raph found himself holding his breath, suddenly afraid to disturb the brittle energy that had filled the room.

Bishop finally spoke. “What did you just say?”

There was a strange quality to his voice that Raph couldn’t figure out. He swallowed. “We were mutated by Baron Draxum.”

A fine shudder made its way through Hun. The motion broke Bishop’s own frozen spell. In a flash, he was at the cage and gripping Raph’s broken fingers, hard. He cried out and tried to squirm away, but the strong agent held on.

“Consider your next words carefully, because I _must_ know the truth and any deception will mean your lives.” The man’s voice was low and intense, but his gaze had a trace of wild desperation in it that kept Raph rooted to the spot. “If he mutated you… what… was it like?”

“We don’t remember!” _Agh, his fingers hurt!_ “We were too young, and just regular turtles back then, too.”

“ _Why_ would he mutate regular turtles?”

“He wanted warriors,” Leo answered. Bishop turned to him. “His intent was to make an army capable of taking on the human race.”

Bishop released Raph’s fingers. He cradled them to his chest as the agent backed away from the cage, slowly straightening his back.

“And just what-” he said slowly, voice as cold as a grave, “-is your relationship to Baron Draxum today?”

“He’s an enemy,” Leo replied, no trace of doubt in his voice.

Behind Raph, Mikey fidgeted.

Bishop’s glare snapped to the smaller turtle and he narrowed his eyes. “I’ll repeat my question: what is your relationship to Baron Draxum today?”

“We already said-”

“I’m not asking you, I’m asking _him_.”

Mikey shriveled a little under the intensity of his stare. Raph wanted to intervene, but it was as if the tension was a live wire he could not touch. His little brother squirmed. “I mean… it’s true that he’s tried to kill us… many, many times. But, a lot of other stuff has happened, too… he’s not trying to mutate humans anymore. Well, the oozesquitoes are still out there, but that’s not really under his control. I think… I think he’s having a change of heart.”

Bishop made a weird exhalation. Raph couldn’t tell if it was a raspy laugh or a cut-off sob. “A _change of heart_?” His voice hardened. “After _everything_ he’s done?”

“You sound like you know him,” observed Leo.

“Know him!” The agent jerked. “For the last twenty-six years that name has haunted me. Haunted _us_.” He walked over to where Hun still stood shell-shocked, eyes closed and taking deep breaths. Bishop stumbled once, like he suddenly had a limp, then straightened. “Your baron is responsible for _this_.”

He tugged Hun’s scarf down.

Raph recoiled. A straight, long, scar ran down the length of the man’s throat, in contrast to the messier one across his face. Smaller scars branched off it, but too perpendicular and too straight to have been an accident. These were done on purpose. These were surgical.

“He wanted _warriors_ ,” Bishop said bitterly, releasing the scarf. He rubbed his calf in agitation. “How do you think he _got them_?”

Raph’s eyes widened.

“Are… are you saying…” Mikey’s voice shook.

“And _y_ _ou’re_ supposed to be his crowning successes?” The harsh laugh was incredulous and broken. “After, after _everything?_ ”

Hun’s chest suddenly heaved and Bishop’s attention snapped back to him. The battle shell in his arms rattled as he started to shake, gasping. He put a hand on the giant’s back and ushered him quickly to the side door, talking softly. He cast one last, murderous, glare at them before exiting.

“Some warriors. I’ll kill you all myself.”

* * *

_He was running for his life but not moving anywhere._

_The floor raced beneath his feet like a high speed treadmill. Hurtles appeared before him, forcing him to either duck or jump as he ran. His lungs ached. His legs burned. He’d been running so fast for so long but knew he couldn’t stop, couldn’t stop until the floor stopped first._

_The floor should have stopped by now._

_His breath came out in sharp gasps. Another hurtle came at him, too high to jump. He crouched, ducking as it swung by, sinewy vines passing overhead. Almost immediately after it was another vegetative obstacle – this one much lower. He sprang up frantically to clear it._

_Pop!_

_He screamed and collapsed, clutching his right leg. His lower calf throbbed like it had been hit, and any twitch sent agony up from his ankle to his hip. The floor carried him backwards and he squeezed his eyes shut, unable to keep the panic at bay._

_He was down. He was down. Oh God. He was going to be put in the trial cage. His time was up, he was down, his tendon was torn, not the trial cage, not the trial cage NOT THE CAGE!_

_Someone poked him and he whimpered. Came to a stop. Tried to curl up. “What happened?” rumbled Satan’s voice, and he flinched at the baritone. Not the cage, he’d been doing so well, not the cage…_

_He pried his eyes opened. Orange light danced around the greenish-yellow hues. Yellow eyes pierced him like a butterfly tacked to a wall. He struggled to answer. To justify his failure of fitness. To plead his exemption from the cage._

_“M-my Achilles… tore. The tendon… popped.”_

_The inhuman eyes mercifully left him, but roved over his leg. He whimpered as it was prodded again and frantically looked around the hellish lab for the other prisoners. The shadows snaked and danced on the walls. Where was his friend? Where was Hun? Where was-_

_He found him, brown eyes watching fearfully from his own cage way up high. Hun reached out a hand towards him – he couldn’t talk anymore, but John knew what he was trying to convey. His breathing quickened._

_“A shame.” The voice startled him. Satan clopped on his hooves back towards him. “You have the best athletic performance out of all my subjects.”_

_He closed his eyes. This was it. He was going in the trial cage. Going to be mutated into whatever hellish monster the proclaimed baron was trying to make. Going to die in agony, body unable to handle the changes inflicted upon it._

_“Let’s see what we can do to improve that.”_

_What? His eyes popped open in time to see the pinkish vines rise forth and curl around his limbs. He gasped as his leg was pulled straight, then he was pinned tightly in place on his stomach._

_Something cold pressed against his injured calf. “A torn tendon, you say?” He shivered. “Well, we can’t have Baron Draxum’s warriors stopped by something so trivial.”_

_The cold turned to a sting, then a fire, and he screamed again._

“Breathe.”

_Baron Draxum!_

“Just keep breathing.”

_Yellow eyes searing into his soul. A booming voice providing commentary over the screams._

“Breathe.”

_Am I telling him that or myself?_

Taking his own advice, Bishop took a breath, hating the shudder in it, and carefully flexed the hand that wasn’t still rubbing Hun’s back. His friend trembled, but also breathed, albeit with the gusto of a drowning man. He clenched his hand in a fist.

It had been so unexpected. That was why. Years without hearing the name suddenly dropped by four Yokai/mutant/whatever turtles would do that. It just surprised him, that was all. Taken off guard only for a moment. _Baron Draxum!_

But they were prepared. They both knew that eventually this day would come. Compartmentalize, compartmentalize, _compartmentalize!_

Unbidden, he patted his coat where he felt the reassuring weight of the Glock.

There was a cracking sound and he looked down. Hun still clutched Donatello’s battle shell, as they had called it, and now spiderweb fractures were emanating from his white-knuckle grip. Briefly, Bishop debated removing it – they still needed to study it – but it was already broken and Hun needed the anchor. He focused on watching those cracks lengthen and grow, bit by bit, entranced in his own way as he breathed.

_Baron Draxum_.

His face hardened.

_Is still out there._

They’d known this, too. But twenty-six years of paranoia did not leave them defenseless.

Hun hissed and threw the battle shell halves against the hallway’s wall. Rage and determination flickered in his eyes.

Bishop regarded him grimly. “There’s the survivor I know.”

Hun turned to him, movements jerky and sharp as he signed. _If the turtles know that –_ his hands performed a particularly vulgar sign – _then we need to bring the fight to him. Go on the offensive. Spill his blood, take HIS voice-_

“What am I always saying?” Bishop interrupted sternly. “I would love nothing more, but we _must_ be patient. We can’t afford to waste our chance. We’ve yet to succeed with Project Achilles, but we _have_ made progress with Jericho. Stick to the plan. We’ll end this for good. Trust me.”

Hun sucked in a breath, this time to control his anger, and nodded.

“Good.” He pressed his glasses against his eyes. Time to think. Time to put away horrible memories whispering at the edges of his mind and focus on what they needed to do _now_. This information changed things. Changed their timeline, changed… everything.

_No, it doesn’t change everything. Just… makes it personal. Again._

“Put the base back on red alert. Have Augustus reassemble the troops by the front entrance and Robyn’s forces patrol the back. I want Chaplin down in Cocytus. Have all other scientists follow protocol H.” He tapped his watch as he spoke. “You and I will need to move these turtles to-” his eyes widened as an alert popped up.

There were intruders in the building.


	20. Chapter 20

April crawled through the vents, not knowing it was the same path the guys had taken only a short time before her. She stifled yet another sneeze. Who knew vents and air shafts could be so _dusty_? When was the last time management had cleaned the filters of this place?

Squinting, she tried to keep track of Splinter’s shadowy form in front of her. That was another thing about air vents. They were also dark. There was no need to put lights where people shouldn’t be crawling around, anyways. It didn’t help that Splinter moved with the complete silence of, well, a ninja. Only the occasional impression of an undulating tail in the darkness let her know that he was even still there.

Behind her, she could hear Sunita also scooting on her hands and knees. While no ninja, she could certainly hold her own, though neither of the girls could match the utter noiselessness of Splints. They tried to keep their movements slow and muffled, cringing whenever the metal around them rebounded a sound for what seemed like miles.

_Maybe all this dust can help cushion us_ , she thought. She plugged her nose against a sneeze once again.

Abruptly, she bumped into something that almost made her shriek. Splinter had paused. With a fading rush of adrenaline, she found herself immensely grateful that he was wearing his Foot disguise for the rescue mission, which included pants. Otherwise running face-first into his backside would have been much, much worse.

“There is an opening up ahead,” Splinter whispered. “If we cannot enter the room, then we must be careful crossing in view of it.”

“Got it,” she whispered back. Blinking, she realized there was a bit of light in the vents now, emanating from somewhere up ahead. They crawled towards it, inching along.

Sunita tapped her ankle. “Hey, do you feel that?” she whispered.

April paused. She didn’t know what her friend was referring to, but the note of seriousness in her voice made her sit up and pay attention. Concentrating, she realized there was a fine vibration running through the vents. “Yeah. Hey, Splints?”

“I feel it, too.” His ear twitched. “And hear it, though I do not yet know what ‘it’ is.”

They resumed moving, but slower. The deeper they got in the building, the stronger it became.

Suddenly she heard Sunita suck in a breath behind her. “Guys, something’s happening!”

April twisted to look over her shoulder and gasped. There was enough light now that she could just make out Sunita’s form… changing. It wavered like an unsteady projector, shifting between her human cloak and Yokai googlyschmootz.

“Is there something wrong with your brooch?”

Sunita clutched at it. “There shouldn’t be. It’s like it’s struggling against something.”

“Anti-mystic device.” April turned her head towards Splinter. “It’s the only thing I’ve seen disable cloaking brooches.” He frowned. “But their signals are normally short-lived, and I do not know where one could be located.”

April laid a hand on the vent walls. Their eyes widened as they reached the same conclusion. “It’ll probably be everywhere.”

“Indeed. Sunita, if we continue, you will likely remain in your Yokai form.”

Sunita bit her lip, considering. April remained quiet, knowing she couldn’t sway her friend into making one decision or another. On the one hand, if it was _April’s_ pops in danger, nothing could dissuade her from continuing. On the other, she was not a Yokai traveling into the heart of a place that was responsible for kidnapping Yokai.

She pursed her own lips, remembering the thought. _But Mom and Dad weren’t there_ , she reminded herself. _They’ve been at the base all day. They wouldn’t lie to me._

_Would they?_

After all, she’d been lying to them.

“I’ll turn back,” Sunita said, though the words themselves sounded heavy. “I’ll sneak back to the Turtle Tank if you guys need a quick getaway.”

“That would be invaluable. We thank you.”

April reached over and squeezed her hand. Firm, human flesh shifted underneath her fingers into green, Yokai gel and then back again. “We’ll come back with all of them.”

“I know.” Sunita squeezed back. “See you soon.”

She shifted and turned in the vents, making her way back. Her form slowly solidified as she grew distant, until she rounded a bend and April couldn’t watch her anymore.

“We must hurry.”

They continued onwards. April could hear whatever was interfering with Sunita’s brooch now, a low hum that seemed to faintly echo all around them. She shuddered as a thought struck her.

_If Sunita’s brooch was affected, what about the guys’ weapons?_

Splinter held up a hand, and this time she could see him stop before running into him again. The grate was before him. He peered down into it, looking to see who, if anyone, was in the room below.

“It looks empty,” he whispered. Then, “ahh.”

“What is it?”

“Our lucky day.” The opening was barred closed, which was odd, but Splinter’s little fingers could reach through the grate and start fiddling with the screws. It wasn’t long before he was pulling the reinforced cover through and setting it aside in the vent. He jumped down and April followed suit.

The room appeared to be a supply dispensary. Different articles of clothing and armor with little tags lined the racks. Boots and helmets were propped on shelves. Gloves, vests, shin guards, and countless other forms of protection also dotted the space. She looked around in wonder, then her heart sank as she spied a dark helmet.

_These guys were decked out head to toe in gear: full-body covering, tinted faceplates, you name it._

It really was the BAI.

Her parents really trained people like this.

Goosebumps rippled across her arms, tickling her bandages from last week’s fight. The wounds had mostly healed, but the wraps kept her from scratching the scabs or reopening them during a mission. She rubbed at them uneasily as she looked around the oppressive uniforms. They weren’t in the vents anymore. Her parents could be anywhere in the building.

As she turned, she saw Splinter holding up one such suit proudly. “This should be your size!”

“What?” she exclaimed. “Splints, I can’t, you can’t expect me to-”

“Blend in?” he hmmmed. “The vents will only take us so far and allow us to see so much. Now, since they don’t make rat-sized uniforms (a disgraceful oversight) I could at least pretend to be your prisoner if someone runs into us. Perhaps, in that case, they would lead us to the _other_ prisoners.”

He had a point. She straightened her back. _C’mon, April, for your FRIENDS. And maybe… if you do run into your parents… maybe they won’t recognize you._

Determination renewed, she snatched the uniform and pulled it over her own clothes. With the boots and helmet in place, not an inch of her was identifiable.

“How do I look?”

“Like a faceless goon.”

“Perfect! Now let’s go.”

They slunk out of the room, missing a little camera in the corner blinking silently.

* * *

“C’mon, almost… _almooooost!_ ”

“Suck it in, Leo!”

“I am!”

They strained again for a moment, then gave up. Raph pulled Leo out from the cage’s one weak spot: the dented bar. They’d tried to get Mikey through the slight opening, but even tucked inside, his shell was just too round to get through. Leo was a bit slimmer, but even though it _looked_ like he could fit, physics just had to go and prove them wrong.

Raph panted and massaged his fingers. Bandages from his palm were now wrapped around them in a makeshift splint. All his other aches and pains from the fight were fading, but this still stood out. He rubbed a little too hard and a sharp sting shot through them.

This could be their one chance to escape! Both Bishop and Hun were out of the room and so they needed to act fast. There was no telling how long the info bomb they had inadvertently dropped on the two would keep them distracted. If only they could get out of this stupid cage, or find that remote that seemed to control it, or their weapons, or _something_.

“Okay, that didn’t work.” He rubbed his brow, giving his poor fingers a break. Think, Raph, think! There had to be something they could do, some way to get out of this. “Alright, new plan: we tie all of our masks together in a lasso, and then-”

“Uh, do we even know how to lasso?” Leo raised his hand.

“I do,” Mikey boasted. “You tell me what needs wranglin’, and I’ll wrangle it for ya.”

“Is that how you manage to snatch pizza slices without leaving the couch?”

“I’m a turtle of many talents, Leo, and you should _know_ better than to ask a magician to reveal his secrets.”

“Wait, you’re using _magic?_ ”

“Focus!” Raph said. “Bishop could walk back in any second; we need to get out of here!”

“I can fit.”

The voice was quiet, but they all stopped talking. They watched as Donnie slowly uncurled himself from his corner. It was the first thing he’d said since being returned to their cage, and it filled Raph with relief. “I can fit,” he repeated.

“Thank goodness!” Leo cheered. “Get us out of here.”

Raph scooched out of the way as Donnie crawled closer. Tiredness clung to his movements, but Raph glimpsed a tiny flicker of raw determination in his eyes as he passed. It made his heart soar – such bedrock tenacity was infinitely better than the distant expression he had been carrying. Donnie may have been beat down, but he wasn’t defeated, and Raph loved him for it. He gave his brother a big, reassuring smile, but instead of returning it Donnie hastily looked away.

In the next moment, he was easing himself between the bars. First an arm, then his head. It was a tight fit. The back of his shell pressed and molded around the dent as his plastron scraped the bar next to it. He sucked in his breath and shifted to slide out at a slight angle, _bending_ his back in a way hardshells couldn’t. Torso went through, and then another arm. He carefully held onto the top of the cage bars as he guided the rest of his body out through the small opening.

As soon as his feet touched uncaged flooring, he was roving around, inspecting the metal for any releases or signs of weakness. Raph wanted to cheer, but knew his brother’s pride wouldn’t allow it. He watched attentively though, beaming, as Donnie ran his deft hands over their particular puzzle.

After a moment he made a frustrated noise. “It’s as I feared… I believe only the remote is capable of affecting any changes to its structure. That is, unless you want to try smashing your hand once again.”

Raph’s fingers throbbed in response. The rage he had felt when Hun slapped Donnie had been overpowering. “I’m not sure I could manage to do that again,” he admitted. He shuddered, “given the circumstances.”

“I vote for the option involving the least amount of broken bones,” Leo said. There was a strange resolve in his voice, and suddenly Raph got a horrible feeling in his stomach.

“Aye-aye,” Mikey agreed.

“And which option would that be?” Donnie asked, crossing his arms.

_Don’t say it!_ Raph telepathically pleaded.

“Leave us.”

He said it! Why did Leo always insist on splitting up the Mad Dogs? At least Donnie had the common sense to look affronted. He took two steps back, laying a hand on his heart.

“How could you _possibly_ expect me to do that? Bishop _literally said_ he was going to kill you! I can’t just leave you to his… to his definition of mercy.”

“You won’t be!” Leo was all encouraging smiles. “Look, you said it yourself, the only thing that can get us out of this cage, besides Raph breaking all the bones in his arms, is the remote. So either get the remote, or find another one, I’m sure there’re spares, or find some other tool and come back to help us. Ooh! Better yet, find our weapons!”

“Yeah! I need my ‘fundo and my ‘fundo needs me!”

“Oh, lovely, but have you forgotten how this building is basically a gigantic _anti-mystic trap?_ Your sword won’t get you out of there, Leo.”

“Maybe not, but you will,” he said, and his confidence sounded so genuine and earnest. “C’mon, there must be _tons_ of other tech toys lying around here, I’m sure you’ll find some of them useful!”

Donnie rubbed his head. He looked so strange divested of all tech – no goggles, no wristband, no –

“Raph, you’re awfully quiet about this.”

He jumped. Donnie was looking at him. He crossed his arms and looked down.

His instincts screamed that they needed to stick together, that none of them should be wandering this terrible place alone. They could take on anything if they were _together_. When did anything good ever come from splitting up?

Okay, when Leo ditched them in Big Mama’s hotel he was able to rescue them, but Raph still believed they could have broken out themselves had they all remained as a group! And yeah, okay, there was another time that…

Anxiety picked at him. He hated the idea of one of them separated from the others, but… that was always _his_ fear, right? His literal worst nightmare? Maybe he was projecting. Maybe Leo and Mikey were right, that this was their only option. After all, Donnie was free. Could he really ask his brother to step back _in_ the cage with them just to face their fate together? Yeah, it would make him feel better, but what would it accomplish?

He hated it when Leo made good points.

“You know I don’t like splitting up,” he began heavily. “I think the Mad Dogs always need to stay as a team.” He took a deep breath and glanced at the door. That clock had to be on its last few seconds if he knew anything about panic attacks.

“But Leo is right. We need someone on the outside. Hueso and the others are still around here somewhere, probably in a similar predicament. Even if you can’t find anything to help us, you can escape and find Pops. We’ll manage until you get back.” His gut screamed at him as he forced himself to smile.

“But what about when he finds that I’m gone?” Donnie protested.

“We’ll cover for you,” Mikey said. “And it may throw him off his game.”

Raph hadn’t considered that. It would put more heat on Donnie once he was discovered missing, which his big brother instincts _didn’t like_ , but it may surprise Bishop enough that he would let something slip, or make rash mistakes. They may even have an opportunity to exploit a weakness.

“Clock’s ticking, bro,” Leo said, pointing at an imaginary watch. “None of this happens at all if they walk in, now.”

Spurred by the point, Donnie looked sharply at the door in question. He started to move towards another of the doors, but paused just before the handle, arm outstretched. Cocking his head, he stepped back and looked around the room.

“Uh, Donnie?”

“Get _moving,_ hermano.”

“Just pick a door, Donnie!”

“I _am_ ,” he said exasperatedly. “But in order to achieve maximum effectiveness”- He spotted what he was looking for and crossed to the desk. –“one must make use”- He hopped up on top of it and started fiddling with some screws around a dark vent grate. –“of the _proper_ door.”

With a flair, the grate unscrewed and popped free. Their brother quickly scuttled up inside the vent. He pulled the grate back on behind him and secured it. Raph could barely make him out as he paused, dark shadows striping his face.

“I’m gonna fix this, guys. I promise.”

“We’ll be right here,” Raph replied. “No family left behind.”

He forced himself to hold his smile. Donnie narrowed his eyes at him for a moment, then turned and vanished into the vents.

Raph slowly let out a long breath. His fingers complained, and he realized he’d been trying to wring his hands through the bandages. He carefully set his injured hand down and balled his other one up to keep it from nervously fidgeting. They were apart. Separated. And he really didn’t like that. It felt too unfamiliar…

“Don’t worry, Raph.” Mikey cuddled close to him, picking up on his emotional energy. “We’ll all be back together before you know it.”

“Donnie’s got this,” Leo encouraged, reclining against the other side of the cage. “We’ll be out of here in no time.”

“Yeah,” Raph finally breathed. “Yeah, you’re right.”

A moment later an alarm began blaring.

* * *

Augie jumped at the red alert, then groaned. Couldn’t Bishop make up his mind? First it was red alert, prepare for invasion, troops stationed at the front. Then it was yellow alert, fan out and sweep the perimeter in regular patrols, and now they were back to red alert? What was going on?

The comm in his helmet crackled. _“Two intruders have entered the building through the upper floor supply room. Apprehend them; do not kill.”_

He nodded, as if Bishop was in the room to see. “Understood.” He tapped the side of his helmet and turned to his squadron. “Second floor supply room. Capture alive.”

They started jogging towards the destination. Augie instructed the other squadrons to keep patrolling in case anyone slipped past them. Robyn checked in over the comms, her forces doing something similar.

His troop reached the supply room and he held up a hand to slow down. Unstrapping the stun gun from his chest, he cautiously moved forward into the room. The troops filed in behind him, their stun guns also at the ready.

The clothes racks looked eerie in the darkness, but the suit’s helmet compensated for the lack of light. For this reason, Augie didn’t turn on the switch; he did not want to give up their advantage navigating in the dark.

They fanned down the aisles, each corner a hair-raising moment of suspense. Dark figures danced around his periphery, but Augie was long-practiced in ignoring the ghosts of anxiety. Turn after turn revealed no shadowy forms breaking into their base.

There was a muffled thump. He brought his stun gun up and stilled, listening. Slowly, he moved forward, rounding the last corner.

One of the recruits stood there, fumbling to pick up their stun gun. Augie relaxed and lowered his. “You okay?”

The recruit looked up and gestured like they were talking. He frowned and tapped the side of his helmet. They cocked their head and tapped their helmet, too, not understanding. He sighed and shouldered his gun, walking up to them.

Tap. Their helmet came to life. They must have tripped or something. “Can you hear me now?”

The short recruit suddenly stiffened and nodded rapidly. For some reason they gave a thumbs up instead of responding. “Alright.” He turned back around and realized his unit had finished covering the whole room. No one was here. This didn’t bode well.

Augie raised his hand to his helmet. “Supply room clear, boss.”

There was a pause before Bishop’s next order crackled through. “ _Then it’s time for a game of cat and mouse.”_


	21. Chapter 21

April glanced at the darkest shadows in the room as she filed behind the other recruits. Splinter was watching from one of them. They’d just barely found the weapons cache to load her up on before _her dad_ had walked around the corner.

When his voice first crackled through the comm link her mind had blanked. The imposing figure in black gear and faceless helmet didn’t look anything like her dorky father. He could have been any one of the other goons, except his voice rang clear as day. Not trusting her own comms to disguise her voice, she hoped vigorous nodding and thumbs-up were enough.

They seemed to be. The troop was moving on. She was surprised to hear her dad calling the shots, and jumped when Bishop’s voice filtered through the earpiece, as though he were standing right next to her.

The search was continuing. Her heart pounded as they headed down some stairs.

The large gun felt unfamiliar in her hands. Her breath sounded loud in the helmet. She stayed near the back of the group, mimicking how the others were holding their weapons and hoping she wouldn’t have to use hers. They started off at a brisk pace, forcing her to trot a little faster to keep up. Though she couldn’t see him, she knew Splinter had to be following them from behind.

She kept her eyes focused on the one thing identifying her dad from the others: the Brazilian stickers on his medical bag. He didn’t look back at anyone, but occasionally called out directional changes. Chatter filtered through the earpiece as they moved. She didn’t hear her mom, but perhaps she was leading another squadron elsewhere.

They arrived at a junction and her dad held up a gloved hand. He paused, as if listening to another channel they weren’t privy to. She shuffled her feet.

“ _There’s a third invader_ ,” he suddenly said. _“We’ll head towards the labs; keep an eye out for any reptilian mutants._ ”

April’s gut clenched, making her nauseous as they started to jog again. She cast a glance around and barely spotted a shadow that was there one moment and gone the next. How could she let Splints know one of the guys was loose? She couldn’t cause a scene or distraction with her dad _right there_.

It didn’t matter in a few moments because all hell broke loose. ~~~~

* * *

Donnie crawled through the vents as fast and as quietly as he could.

He shivered a little as the cold air circulated around him. His shell prickled and he swore that he could feel every little piece of lint and speck of dust that landed on it. It was _distracting._ It made the rest of his body just as hypersensitive. Every groove of the vents that scraped beneath his fingertips, every time his knees met the cold metal that sent shock waves shivering down his legs, and every _little, freaking, puff of air along his shell-!_

He shook his head, trying to focus. His brothers needed him. He couldn’t let things get worse, he couldn’t. This was already bad enough. But if he could at least _fix_ this mess… maybe they would forgive him.

When the red alert sounded, he about had a heart attack thinking that his escape had already been discovered, and that his brothers were now paying the price for it. But as a gaggle of troops raced by down a hallway below, he realized it was due to something else.

Hopefully their rescuers.

He paused and debated finding them, but the BAI was a maze. They could be anywhere, and he didn’t want to get lost. He rubbed his bare left wrist for the umpteenth time. No, stick to the plan. Find something useful and return to his brothers. He could fix this, he could fix this. He crawled onwards.

He peered through the next grate and did a double take. That was a laboratory if ever he saw one. Sleek, shiny, stainless-steel tables, state of the art equipment, and sparkling, polished, white floors?

“Be still, my heart,” he murmured.

Working quickly, he fiddled with the grate. The screws were tighter on this one than the others he’d encountered, so he twisted around to kick it open with his feet. _Ah, gross, this vent feels really gritty, ew, ew, ew, just pretend you’re lying in sand, that’s the feel of sand against your shell, Donnie-_

The grate crunched beneath his foot and fell to the floor with a clatter. No one came running.

As he dropped down into the lab, he noticed it looked as if someone had cleared it out. Sure, shiny microscopes, spectrometers, and other big equipment was still there, but they were bolted to their stations. Most notably, there was nothing for the tools to study. No petri dishes, strange specimens, or mystic objects were left lying around.

He explored further in the room, opening drawers and rifling through plastic cabinets to see if there was anything useful left behind. Nothing in there. It was like a scorched earth order had been issued. One whole wall was eerily blank, and a different hue than the others. A panel stood next to it, and he rubbed his chin as he approached it. After studying it for a moment, he pressed a button.

The wall became transparent, revealing it wasn’t a wall but a window. Data began scrolling across the panel as Donnie leaned over to get a look at what was on the other side.

“Oh,” he said to himself. Then, grinning, “hello, Mrs. Nubbins.”

The manty-cat looked asleep, but judging by the shredded walls of her massive cell certainly had her bouts of activity. He cast a quick glance around the dimensions of the laboratory, and fit it in with his mental schematic of the BAI. If the cat was here, then…

He turned back to the panel and started tapping at it. “Yes!” Stinkbomb was housed in the next cell over. He tried to navigate the system some more, looking for the Yokai, but the mutants were the only two bio-signals popping up.

Honestly? They were all he needed.

“Unrestrained giggle,” he whispered, and pressed a button.

* * *

Things were under control.

Augustus was patrolling his troops up front. Robyn split her people up to cover the back. They would find the elusive intruders in no time.

_What if the intruders were Draxum’s?_

No. Compartmentalize. Everything was under control. They had measures in place in case of such a thing. All mystic powers were neutralized here. All the cards were in his hands. There were just a few items left to wrap up.

_Take that and put it with the rest,_ he signed to Hun, not trusting his voice for a moment.

Hun nodded, the fire back in his eyes, and moved off down the hallways with the remains of the battle shell. Bishop watched him go, then, taking a breath to regain his composure, he finally walked back into the room where the mutant turtles were waiting.

Immediately, he could tell that something was off. Raphael had quickly turned his back and crouched by the corner where Donatello had been curled up, as though trying to block something from his view. Leonardo and Michelangelo filled in up front, trying to distract him with nonsensical questions. He narrowed his eyes.

“Something’s going on here.”

“What?” Leonardo said. “You mean something other than whatever caused the alarm? Because it sounded important and I’m pretty sure you should be looking into it.”

He ignored the wisecrack and started walking around the cage, noting how the turtles shifted to stay in his line of sight. Raphael kept his back to him.

“What are you hiding?”

He rushed around the back of the cage in a burst of speed and gaped. This couldn’t be. Raphael looked up at him and smiled.

“Me? Why, I’m not hiding anything.”

He was right: there was nothing there.

Donatello was gone.

The turtle had _escaped_.

Cold fury swept through Bishop. He tapped his earpiece. “Attention all units – a third invader, a reptilian mutant, is loose. Apprehend immediately.” His murderous glare never left the turtles as his hand dropped from the earpiece. “Don’t think this stunt will do you any good; it won’t be long before he joins you in _Cocytus_.” He reached for the cage.

The whole building shook with a thundering quake.

They paused, looking around fervently as dust and plaster fell from the ceiling. There was another, equally violent, shudder, and then Bishop’s earpiece exploded with chatter.

_“Holy hell!”_

_“WHO did-”_

_“-atory 15 and-”_

_“Taking fire-”_

_“SCREEEEECH!”_

“Clear the comms!” Bishop demanded. “Someone report!”

“ _Mutants loose!”_

His eyes widened. The cat the and the feral flower were unleashed.

Fuck, this was _disastrous_.

Shouts and the sounds of battle clanged in his ear as he cursed. “Hun! Drop what you’re doing and meet me outside Lab 15!” He whirled at the turtles. “I will deal with you later.”

“Bye now,” Leonardo said casually. It rankled him.

Bishop ran out of the room. He had to get this under control before it turned into another fiasco. Control. He had it under control.

He rounded a corner and studded to a halt.

This was so out of control.

* * *

April ducked as a paw swiped at them in the hallway. The image of a cat hiding in a box sticking out its paw to bat at toys suddenly assailed her, though she had the unnerving knowledge that _they_ were the toys. A loud yowl echoed around the hallways, so powerful it felt like a physical force. The troops around her all scrambled like mad and fired their guns, which seemed to shoot bolts of electricity. She fumbled with hers and ducked again.

The attack had come out of nowhere. She frantically tried to find her dad in the chaos, just to make sure he was okay, just to know where he was, but everybody looked the same-

There was a blurred shadow and then suddenly Splints was next to her. “This is the distraction we needed,” he said. “Find the boys!”

“What about you?” she blanched.

“I will assist in calming the kitty-cat.”

She winced and Splinter’s ears went flat as the cat let out another yowl. “Uh, maybe that’s NOT such a good idea for a walking cat treat?” She gestured his furry form. “I can stay here and-”

A warbling wail sounded through the hallway and her head whipped towards it. She knew that sound. It looked like the BAI hadn’t transported Stinkbomb to the woods after all. Her heart jumped to her throat as she finally spotted her dad’s shorter figure running towards the noise. He was calling for backup. She needed to-

“There is no time. Go!”

Splinter shoved her out of the way of another cat swipe and she rolled. He darted among the troops, fast as a blink, and was through them and rebounding away from the manty-cat in another flash. Stinkbomb shrieked again.

“ _Move! Move!”_

Her helmet’s comm screeched as more troops jostled around her, joining the fray. This was her exit. She needed to… move, she needed to… leave.

What about her dad?

Where was her mom?

She was so _tired_ of having to pick between her friends and her family!

_Focus, April!_

She shook her head to clear it, and that’s when she saw Bishop skid around a corner. He stopped for a moment, taking in the scene, then dove in. April threw herself against the wall as he passed, the edge of his coat brushing by her.

He had to be coming from somewhere. That hallway it was.

She took off and started trying doors.

* * *

“1, 2, 3, _oomph!_ ”

_CLANG._

“1, 2, 3, _oomph!_ ”

_CLANG._

“Okay, one more. 1, 2, 3, _oomph!_ ”

The three turtles rammed the edge of their cage and the whole thing creaked forward. Raph pushed on the bars, trying to unbalance its weight, and finally it tilted. They all fell forward as the cage now sat on what had previously been one of its sides.

“Okay, that’s good progress! Two more turns and we’ll be close to the door.”

Leo and Mikey panted, but geared up for more body-slamming. Raph shuffled to the ‘back’ of the cage next to them and prepared to make another go.

“Ready? 1, 2, 3-”

The door burst open. Someone gasped. “GUYS!”

They all flailed at the appearance of a faceless BAI agent, then cheered when April ripped off her helmet. She smiled broadly at them. “Found you!”

“April, alright!” They pressed against the cage bars as close as they could. “Do you have a remote or something to get us out of here?”

“Umm, what kind of remote?” She started digging through the suit’s pockets, pulling out all kinds of strange objects: round bands, a case of darts, small boxes that looked like laptop chargers… “I grabbed a bunch of stuff from a supply room, but I have no idea what any of them-”

“There!” Leo pointed at some grey cubes falling out of a pouch. “Those are what these cages look like when small. Is there anything kind of rectangular with them?”

“Uh, hold on.” She pulled out an object similar to the one Bishop had been holding. “This?”

“Exactly!”

“So it’s not a key?”

“The cage is fancy,” Raph explained. “It can change size and shape and open doors and stuff.”

“Okay, hmm.” She started fiddling with the buttons. The metal around them whirred, clicked, and whined as the bent bar shed sparks.

“Ahhh! It’s shrinking!”

“Sorry!”

“Make it go the other way!”

“I’m trying!”

“I’m too pretty to be smushed to death!”

“Got it!” She clicked the remote and the cage started expanding. It widened and unspooled until even Raph could finally step between the bars. They swarmed her in a hug.

“Who all’s here? What was that shaking? We need to find Donnie and Hueso and-”

“We found Repo’s cat,” April interrupted. “And Stinkbomb. Splints is helping fight them off, and I saw Bishop there, too.” She looked around the room and the still-growing cage. “So I take it Donnie’s the one who let them out?”

“If it wasn’t you, then probably.” Raph shuddered. “It was good timing.”

“Then we’ll head back their way.” April picked up her massive stun gun then looked at them. “Where are your weapons?”

“Ah, see-”

“Nevermind, we’ll look for them, too.” She pulled open the door, hesitated, then reached for her helmet and put it on. “If you see my parents, try not to, uh, attack them.”

“Will they all look like you?” Raph frowned, gesturing the uniform.

“Yeah.”

“And exactly like everyone else?”

“ _Yeah okay, we’ll figure it out, let’s go!_ ”

She moved forward, then lurched back, stumbling. Scrabbling at the helmet, she suddenly tore it off.

“Um, I thought you-”

“Something’s _screeching_ ,” she shouted, rubbing her ears. “There’s comms in the helmet but it’s like someone doesn’t know how to use a microphone or something!” She kicked it in frustration and for a moment they heard the awful noise, too.

They looked at each other. Nodded once.

“Donnie.”


End file.
